#actually its freshmen and sophomores

[yeonboy]

𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 ♡ choi soobin.

If it was up to you, you would worship the very ground Choi Soobin walks. No, you’re not a simp, he’s just that amazing – the star of your college’s broadcasting club, your role model, the reason why you even have a dream career, and…someone you’d really like to make out with if he’d allow it. But the first ever conversation you have with him has your rose-tinted, star-studded glasses shattering to pieces when he turns out to be a huge jerk. Is this just a misunderstanding or is it the end?

❧ choi soobin x f. reader | 16+ | college!au ♡ strangers to lovers!au ♡ angst ♡ fluff

❧ 10 k words

❧ warnings! inaccuracies wrt broadcasting journalism majors & college broadcasting clubs, profanity, some suggestive language, misunderstandings, allusions to slut-shaming, soobin being an accidental (?) asshole, some heartbreak, some conflict, some yelling, insecurities wrt social standing in college, yn is a certified soob simp™ but goes thru a hater era for half a day </3, stinky cute fluff later on, some cringe, so much blushinG it’ll make u sick, a make out sesh, cameo by yj & his girl from fic 1 bec i love them sm :(

❧ note! set in the same universe as no one but you. i’ve been working on this since marCh, idk why it took me so long to finish? the wc def ran away from me a little whoops! anyways, this gets rough in the middle – soobin might shock u with his behavior but it will all get resolved, i promise!

leave me feedback if you like this! follow for more! (:

❧ masterlist | inbox ⁘

“I’m sorry, the tryouts are closed!”

You blink. Take a step away. Peek at the huge poster stuck on the huger double doors to the auditorium. The notice says the tryouts would run from four to six in the evening – it’s presently five minutes past five. What the heck?

Around you, you notice a number of girls looking as disgruntled as you feel. You approach one. “Uh, hey…did you already do your piece?”

The girl twirls a vibrant purple strand of hair around her finger and rolls her eyes. “Nope. Choi’s bitch ass shut the doors unannounced ’cause he’s pissed off for some reason.”

Choi? Bitch ass? This girl can’t possibly be talking about the Choi Soobin, right? The prince of the university’s broadcasting club who always emcees every single stage performance the university hosts?

No, she can’t be. No one would refer to the Choi Soobin’s glorious behind as ‘bitch ass.’ Besides, you really don’t think he’d sit around judging freshmen entrants to the club when he’s got so many better, so much cooler things on his schedule.

Choi Soobin the Great has been in this club for three years, two of which he has spent as its president. That, in itself, should be pretty explanatory with regards to how skilled he is at the whole announcer, emcee, broadcast business. 

His extraordinary talent with the mic is what inspired you to pick broadcast journalism as your major, in fact. You'd entered the university on jittery, scared steps because you didn't believe you would actually find something that interested you enough to make a career out of. You spent a whole academic year fluttering between psych and communication, aimless and despaired.

But then came sophomore year where you volunteered to set things up for the new freshman batch's orientation week – and that is when you saw Choi Soobin, a fellow sophomore, take the stage and blow everyone away. He was so good with his audience of the new admittees, providing them with all the important information without making them feel nervous because he used the perfect amount of jokes as a buffer.

It was love at first sight for you.

Okay, like, not like that. You did end up making an altar for Choi Soobin the Great where you continue to worship on the daily because he's a god on stage, but what you actually fell in love with was the art of emceeing.

So you registered your major in your third semester and began to work on polishing your skills. Now, two semesters later and midway through the junior year, you finally feel confident and prepared enough to enter your God's actual, holy shrine and join his praying circle.

…maybe you should stop with these metaphors before it gets weird.

Anyways.

Case in point – unlike this uninformed rodent of a girl who found it fit to disrespect your role model and gave up on these tryouts in favor of rolling her eyes and complaining in the hallway, you are nothing if not strong-willed. 

You are finally ready to do something about your one true passion that you can actually see yourself pursuing professionally after college. Being part of the university's broadcasting club means guaranteed dream job; you've seen it happen with your eyes for two consecutive years. You're finally ready to follow suit; finally ready to join the ranks of the elite and learn from Choi Soobin the Great himself – and you are not about to let a gruff call of  "tryouts are closed" from an overworked janitor deter you.

Checking this way and that for any onlookers, you sneak off to the narrow passage to the side that you know connects to this auditorium's back door, and in turn, the cafeteria. You're just gonna casually stroll through it, maybe loiter a bit around the doors until someone from the judges panel steps out so that you can beg them to give you a chance. And if someone catches you? You were just looking for the cafe!

It's the perfect plan.

Until, that is, your loitering ends with the legend himself, Choi Soobin the Great stepping out of the backdoor and freezing you to a statue.

You've seen the man from afar more times than you can count on both hands. You're a true fan, a great admirer, a semi-obsessed devotee (?) of his. But never once have you seen the guy from this up close. Needless to say, your brain's short circuiting a little.

Three things strike you all at one – that the university's emcee prince did, in fact, sit in to judge freshman entrants to the broadcasting club despite his various busy schedules; that the purple haired female auditionee actually did call this great man's glorious behind 'bitch ass' like an uncultured heathen; and finally, that Choi Soobin sporting a combination of dark black hair, bright red lips and stark white t-shirt should be banned because it can cause brain malfunctions in people.

Because while the guy's eyes widen and then squint as he looks at you, and mouth opens as if to say something to you – you stay absolutely frozen, literally turned to stone without a single muscle moving in your body. Including your lungs that are jammed because you're pretty sure you aren't breathing.

"Um… can I help you?"

Oh shit, his dimples…

His dimples!

You realise this is entering borderline creepy territory but you can't help staring at him. He's just so pretty. Though your brain functions are still experiencing a slight lag, you're starting to realize that your crush on the guy is winning over the admiration and respect you have for his talents, at the moment.

He's ethereal. He's unearthly. He's the most beautiful guy you've ever met. You're a simp.

"Excuse me?" Soobin's head tilts to the side in confusion. "Can I help you?"

He definitely can, in more ways than one, but that conversation is for another time.

His impatiently raised eyebrows suddenly push you back into motion, breaking your frozen state, but now you're on an overdrive, very close to hyperventilating in front of him.

"H–hey! I mean, h–hi. I mean, fancy bumping into you here! N–not that we bumped, just, uh—haha, you know? Fancy – fancy seeing you here, how have you been?"

Oh

God.

Did all of that just exit your mouth?

You need a shovel because this calls for digging up a hole and burying yourself alive. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Your entire face feels like it's caught on fire, and all the nerve endings in your body are tingling from embarrassment. You feel like you're vibrating. Wait, if you vibrate at a frequency that's outside of the visible range, can you voluntarily make yourself disappear?

The only thing holding you back from combusting into flames is the amused smile that replaces the previously formal tilt on Soobin's lips. "Hi. I'm sorry, where do I know you from? You look very familiar, but I'm just missing it…"

You look familiar? So he does notice you in class! Maybe getting that hair spa last month has worked in your favor, after all. You're getting a little googly eyed, but you do your best to control your reactions as you gauge his.

He looks so darn cute with his dimpled smile that makes his eyes squint, that you're left gaping for a couple of seconds before you're able to notice the hand he is forwarding you. Nodding haphazardly, you forward yours and let him wrap his huge palm around your significantly smaller one. Even though you try to repress it, the warmth his skin emanates sends a shiver running through you.

If Soobin notices the subtle shake your body gives, he doesn't comment on it.

He's being so angelically patient and kind, you need to get it together! 

So you clap your hands in front of your face and pull your lips up in a smile, preparing yourself to say your thing without any unnecessary words this time. 

"Uh, I'm – I'm in your class? I don't know if you know me, but I know you! I'm, um, I'm here for the broadcasting club. And – and I noticed that the banner said that the tryouts would run from four to six, but I've been told that the gates have been closed when it is barely past five, so I was… w–wondering…" You slowly trail off, stuttering a little when Soobin's facial expressions do a sudden one-eighty.

Gone is the sweet, dimpled, kind guy who was smiling at you with his eyes. Now his lips are pursed and eyebrows furrowed, a clear look of irritation on his face. Well, he's still got a dimple showing, but this one's part of his frowny face so you're not sure if you should be admiring it anymore.

"Wow. You're gutsy." His tone has changed now, too, really stiff with an underlying scoff in words. "Did you follow me here?"

You blink in surprise. "What? Of course not! The – the main doors were closed, so I was looking for another way in and—"

"Good God, please stop talking," he interrupts you with a groan, rolling his eyes as he tilts his head to look skywards – and you're fully paralyzed now, clueless and a little scared because Soobin looks so mean and intimidating with his eyebrows scrunched up like that. "I don't get what you guys' problem is. I'm – I'm trying to do something serious here. Why the hell do you not get it?"

Blinking slowly, you gape at your idol, your icon, the deity of all things broadcasting as he yells at you about something you can make neither head nor tail of. 

'You guys'? Who? 

You know that you of all people definitely get that he's doing something serious. You're as much, if not more, serious about the club yourself; the reason why you've taken so long to decide to audition for it. Besides, how's he judging you when you've never met before?

Willing your frozen lips to move, you attempt to clear the air. "We've – we've never met before. You don't know me. I'm—"

"Oh, I know you enough." This time there is vitriol in his eyes as he spits the words, and you take an actual, vary step away from Soobin. "I've been through twenty auditions and seen fifty applications in the past hour and every single one of the girls like you is dying to get to interview the hockey team and talk to Yeonjun about his strategy for his final season in college. So I know exactly who you are and exactly what you're after."

He is rolling his eyes again, this time with both his hands braced on his waist.

But his words are very confusing and a little hurtful. Why is he grouping you with whatever 'girls like you' he's seen so far? You've been a fan of Soobin for a while now, but you've never encountered any instance of even a mention of him being anything less than courteous and big hearted.

This attitude from him feels like living a fever dream – and not of the good kind.

"So for the last time – I'm not taking any of you groupies into this club because it is not a means to get into the hockey captain's pants! I need serious people who look at announcing and broadcasting with respect and not as something they can use as cover for their ulterior motives. Oh, and if it means anything to you at all, Yeonjun hyung has a girlfriend now. We probably won't even be covering him at all because his fangirls are always a bit too much."

Your head is spinning a little now. 

Did he call you a groupie? Yeonjun's groupie? He thinks you're doing this to get into Yeonjun's… what the hell?

While you're still processing his previous words, Soobin gives a wince. "Look, I'm sorry if all this sounds harsh, but you've left me no choice. Trying to corner me was a really low blow, okay? There's a limit to acting desperate and you're clearly crossing the line, here. If you can't respect me or the club, at least respect yourself."

The pieces have finally fallen in place in your head. You couldn't make sense of it earlier because you didn't really allow yourself to think Soobin would go there. But given his last statement, now you have no doubts.

You don't live under a rock – you really can't afford to when you dream of joining the broadcasting club, of all things – so you obviously know hockey captain Choi Yeonjun and the hype surrounding him. And because you always do your homework well, you also know that he used to be somewhat of a serial dater before he got into a serious relationship with his long time best friend, just last month. All of Yeonjun's fangirls across campus have been disheartened by this development and have been acting desperate ever since.

But why on earth has Soobin pegged you as one of them escapes you. You did not say a word about the hockey team. You didn't get to tell him what your goals actually are. Hell, you didn't even get to tell him your name before he shut you down.

This is a very overwhelming generalization, and you really wanna give Soobin the benefit of the doubt here because going through fifty bullshit applications can be a lot – but he needs to hear you out for you to do that.

"Soobin," you try again, raising both your palms up in an attempt to placate him, "I don't know how you're getting this idea, but I'm not one of – one of Yeonjun's groupies, or whatever, okay? I literally told you I'm in your class."

“Look, I really don’t have time for all these tales,” Soobin interrupts you with a sigh, a huge hand raised up to shut you up – so you do. “You’re dressed… too prettily to be trying out for the broadcasting club, anyways. Is that a cheerleading skirt?”

He's looking down his nose at your miniskirt that you felt very pretty in, annoyance on his face, and now –

Now you're hurt. Now you're hurt beyond giving him the benefit of the doubt. Now you're hurt enough for your eyes to sting with offense.

“Are you trying to pass a judgment on my…clothes?” you ask him in shock, your voice low and a frown creasing your forehead. 

He looks a little uncomfortable as he clears his throat. “I’ve seen the way Yeonjun’s fangirls dress, and you kinda… fit the description.”

He really isn’t giving up on the groupie allegations…

In any other scenario, you would honestly take that as a compliment. Because you have seen these girls as well and their appearance is honestly on another level. But this guy in front of you definitely means it as an insult. And he is still scowling, as if you have dressed up to personally offend him.

You’re at a complete loss now. He hasn’t let you talk, you haven’t even told him your name, and he is acting like knows everything about you. His mind seems fully made up too. 

What are you supposed to do?

"You know what? Maybe I… I should leave through the front door,” he murmurs in your general direction and then moves to step back through the gates he’d emerged from.

You just stay rooted to your place, offended at his dismissal and still in partial disbelief. 

Choi Soobin is nothing like anything you thought he was. 

The smiling, giggling, squinty-eyed guy that you always heard being called kind-hearted, warm, understanding and sweet? Cannot be the same guy you just met. Part of the reason why you like him so much has been the overwhelming amount of praises you have heard about him. 

At times, you found yourself wondering how such an important and busy guy could muster enough patience to be a sweetheart to everyone. Now you know that it’s all a sham – a character he has created to showcase. It’s all pretend. 

This, the version of him you just met, is what the real Choi Soobin is like when no one’s looking. 

Not just your crush, but your idol has broken your heart. 

How are you gonna move on from this?

"Y/N!"

The sudden shout of your name makes you jump in surprise, wide, watery eyes turning to the end of the hallway. Soobin has stopped in his place as well, a frown on his forehead as he attempts to follow your gaze – but he's a little off center from the curved hallway to be able to locate a bubbly looking Yeji excitedly waving at you. 

Oh fuck. Not right now. You don't need your best friend to witness you experiencing the worst moment of your entire life.

But Yeji being the loudass clown she is, doesn't stop speaking at the top of her voice as she marches down the hallway to you. "Where have you been? The janitor says they closed the tryouts? Did you pass? Oh, and a girl told me Choi Soobin was in the judging panel! Did you get to see him?"

Your eyes jump wide, traveling to the said guy involuntarily to witness the way confusion overtakes his face. He isn't moving, though, probably out of intrigue now that he has heard his name, and you're halfway scared to death that Yeji is about to reveal your secret and bathe you in the kind of embarrassment that you will never be able to live down.

"Yeji, I'm just—"

"Babe, why do you look so pale?" she cuts you off, squinting as she nears you, and before you can get another word out, her lips are tilting mischievously and eyebrows are wiggling. "Did Choi find out about your obsessive crush on him? Did he kick you out? Are you hiding from him?"

Yeji is done walking up to you and is now standing with her back to the still open door to the auditorium to look at you with her head tilted and hands braced on her waist. But your gaze is stuck to the person whose face you can easily see over her shoulder.

Soobin's eyes are impossibly wide and mouth is parted to allow his bunny-like front teeth to peek out. There's a subtle flush covering the top of his cheekbones, ears and the bridge of his nose – a sight that would've had you cooing in adoration if you weren’t so distraught, right now.

And then his lips move to form a broken sentence that makes you want to stab Yeji and then yourself: "You… obsessive crush… me?"

To her credit, Yeji seems to recognise the guy's voice and also the context of this ridiculous situation pretty quickly. Her eyes grow wide immediately before a wince overtakes her face as she mouths the word 'sorry' to you, probably mistaking your fallen expressions to be a reaction to the chaos she has caused. Little does she know.

Just as she has stepped aside, Soobin takes a step closer to you, heavy guilt and bewilderment sewn into the lines of his forehead and the twist of his lips. It's so weird that your heart is still skipping a beat when his gaze searches yours. 

It's so unfair. 

You inhale deeply and shake your head, though, steeling yourself against his deceitful innocent eyes. His dimples are just a facade to hide his arrogance. You know better now.

"Not anymore, don't you worry," you tell him with your chin lifted and eyes narrowed.

And damn, you feel so brave for that one. Especially because the words aren't even true. Getting over him will be a hefty task and you have no idea where to even begin, because your life has pretty much revolved around the guy for over a year.

Soobin frowns at that, looking almost hurt, and you want to laugh in his face at the hypocrisy. But you've had enough of him judging you and you're also ninety-eight percent sure you will end up crying if you tried to laugh, so you choose to just grab onto an embarrassed and confused looking Yeji's wrist and tug her with you to the other end of the hallway, exiting into the college's cafeteria.

"Babe, that was—ow!"

Yeji is cut off by you smacking her upside the head. "You're so fucking stupid, Hwang."

"I know… I'm sorry?" 

"Shut up, you’re buying me lunch."

The next day, while you’re supposed to be attending your Media Law class, a mandatory course in your major, you find yourself sitting (read: sulking) in a corner of the library by yourself, staring at the laptop in front of you unseeingly. Your attendance is good enough to save your grades and you can beg Chaewon for notes later in the week. 

But you truly don’t have enough mental strength to face the class’ star student after the shitshow that went down, yesterday.

While Yeji bought you lunch yesterday, you filled her in on everything that happened. Your best friend provided you with a shoulder for your tears, some tissues for your snot and four golden words of advice: never meet your heroes. Because now everything is ruined, and you’re beginning to wonder if picking this major was even worth it when the reason why you did has turned out to be a sham himself.

Your phone suddenly pings with a message, breaking your chain of spiraling thoughts.

11:03 | yeji 💘 dood. guess who i bumped into omw to the chem lab and guess what he asked me for

You blink and then squint at your phone. Why is your best friend trying to be so mysterious? 

↪ wtf ji…? ↪ who asked u for what? ↪ are u okay?

11:05 | yeji 💘 what? yeah i’m okay choi soobin asked for your number

What? 

↪ yeji… ↪ tell me u didn’t give it to him

11:06 | yeji 💘 of course not bestie <3 i told him to talk to you in person he’ll be there in a min good luck! 💋💋💋

You hadn’t even fully inhaled your breath of relief at Yeji’s first text when she cut it short with the next one. In person? In a minute? 

Did Yeji tell him where you are?

“Uh, hey… Can we talk?”

She did. Shit.

Even if you don’t lift your gaze from your phone, Soobin’s tall form blocks the incoming light from the window you were seated next to and casts such an obvious shadow on your form that you cannot ignore him without making it weird. So you lick your lips and collect your nerves, preparing yourself to face the guy who single-handedly inspired and then shattered your future plans.

Soobin looks as devastatingly handsome as ever, dressed in a white, collared shirt. His hair is just as black, lips just as red, but there’s an additional pair of thick, black, round-framed glasses sitting on his eyes this time that make your heart beat faster. He just had to look like a runway model in glasses. The universe hates you. Figures.

The expressions on his face scream clear distress and the guilt you saw yesterday. He’s nibbling on his bottom lip, which is a great sign because his bitch ass should be antsy about his audacity of talking to you now when he didn’t wanna listen to you yesterday.

Wow. Maybe that purple haired girl really was onto something, yesterday. Choi Soobin’s derriere is most definitely a rude and a bitch ass.

Looking down at your laptop, you clear your throat and ask him, “What do you wanna talk about?”

You don’t ask him to sit, you do not smile, don’t even wave back in response to his lame ass ‘hey’ – just cut straight to business. You’re proud of the way your voice sounds the right amount of impatient and careless.

“I… I owe you an apology.”

That has you looking at him again. He’s frowning now, looking so conflicted, you almost soften. But then you stop yourself. This is probably not even that heartfelt. He heard about your crush on him and now he pities you. You won’t be a vessel for him to pretend to clear his conscience when he wasn’t even willing to get off his judgemental high horse for you.

“Soobin… don’t.”

He takes the seat opposite yours, ignoring your eyebrows that rise up in shocked outrage. "I have to. Please."

"You really don't—"

"I was horribly out of line, ridiculously ignorant, unprofessional and – and an asshole."

You blink at him in mild surprise. At least he knows; that’s an oddly good start. "You can say that again."

He removes his glasses and rests his elbows on the table, leaning towards you with wide, desperate eyes. "I do not expect you to forgive me, I just need you to – to know that I'm not… I'm not who I was yesterday. That's not – I was under pressure and I felt irritated, insecure and a little jealous? And I said everything I didn't mean. Especially that comment about your dress up! I didn't mean it, I swear! You looked pretty, your skirt was really cute, okay? I – I didn't mean to insult you, I would never stoop to that level."

Your cheeks involuntarily heat up at the compliment he tosses at you so casually. "Why say it when you didn't mean it?" you mumble, attempting to hold your ground and stay mad because he's saying all the right things to weaken your resolve and give him an ear.

He hangs his head as if in shame. "Because I'm a moron. None of the stuff I said was aimed at you. As you said, we hadn't even met before, and… I was frustrated and tired and just drew all these wrong conclusions about you and went off like an idiot. I feel so horrible. I'm so fucking sorry..."

Very slowly, you lean back in your chair and shut your laptop. He really knows how to apologize, damn. 

You were preparing to knock Choi Soobin off the throne you had him sitting on, mentally, and then crush that very throne to pieces because if he could disappoint you like this, you were determined to never look for another role model. You were preparing yourself to leave Choi Soobin and his arrogance in dust and move on with your life.

But now here he is – apologizing like the decent human being you always thought him to be, saying everything you’d never admit you needed to hear.

He’s climbing back upon the throne that took you a whole day to make up your mind to remove him from. 

You’re kinda pathetic, to be honest…

In an attempt to regain some of the dignity your inner monologue has stripped you of, you frown at him. But you are definitely intrigued now because if the kindness and sweetness he shows everyone is a facade, why is he being kind and sweet to you in private?

Could there possibly be… an explanation for his behavior yesterday? He said he was under pressure and frustrated. Although you understand the former, given his position and the auditions yesterday, you don’t really get why he would be frustrated.

When you meet his gaze again, you find Soobin looking at you with those wide eyes of his spilling desperate hope. So you decide to bite.

 "You – you keep saying you were frustrated… Why was that? "

He thumps his head against the table with a groan, making you jump a little in surprise, and then looks up with a determined expression on his face. "I'll begin from the beginning. I owe you that much."

"You really don't owe me any—"

"Please, Y/N."

Oh. Did he say your name? Oh.

Wow, this is why crushes are horrible. Now your heart is thumping wildly and your face feels really hot. Honestly, there should be a system where one can run a background check on an individual before they can be deemed safe enough to be crushed on so that one doesn’t end up embarrassing oneself.

You can only hope your face hasn’t heated up to a noticeable degree.

"I… Since the day I was made President of the Broadcasting Club and was given the duty to conduct interviews for the different sports teams our college has, there’s been this – this recurring pattern. Huge throngs of girls that want to join the club for a chance to interview the hockey team and get close to Captain Choi.” He gives a tired exhale and runs a hand down his face. “I’ve seen it repeat every semester. And this time it got really out of hand because I actually decided to sit in for the tryouts…”

You didn’t even notice when you leaned on your elbows to mirror Soobin’s seating position and focused your eyes on his face, so when he looks up to meet your gaze, your breath catches for a moment. And then you see absolute, sheer tiredness reflected by his brown orbs.

He cannot be this good of an actor, can he be? That would mean that he's really been going through something with this whole insincere signing up for the club thing.

"It was really wrong of me to explode on you the way I did," he continues in a softer voice, looking down at the table next to his palms. "I assumed you were one of the girls that had been giving me a hard time and… didn't even let you say your thing. I'm really, terribly sorry for being a jerk to you."

Your jaw drops a little at the sincerity that spills from his apology. He doesn't sound like he's doing this to clear his conscience or out of pity – he sounds really regretful. He almost sounds like he's in pain, in fact. 

Does he really feel that guilty?

He would only be feeling so bad about this if… everything he has said so far is the truth and he’s actually not the kind of person he painted himself as, yesterday. You can sense the way your previously drawn conclusions begin to dissipate little by little.

"After you left," Soobin begins again, this time with a slight twinkle in his eyes and a tilt to his lips that makes his dimples pop, "I went looking for your application form and read about your interest in announcing. You… you picked your major because of me?"

Your cheeks are definitely on fire now and there’s no way Soobin can’t see that. Why did you put that in your form, you embarrassing imbecile? 

Well. If Soobin has been gusty and virtuous enough to come looking for you and make an attempt to honestly explain himself and apologize, maybe you can be a little honest with him as well.

"You see… the freshman orientation you hosted last year left an impact on me," you reveal, unable to look at him. "And then I saw your sports coverage and realized that I want to be a sports announcer in future."

Soobin says your name, making you look up and meet his soft gaze. "I never thought I would do anything in life that would be worth an inspiration… so this means a lot to me. A lot.” His eyes are shining with sincerity and emotion, and you’re looking into them, spellbound. “I am so sorry I hurt you and I’m ready to try and make it up to you for as long as needed. I don’t really expect you to accept my apology, like I told you, but if you would please give me another chance, I would like to show you who I really am. And maybe initiate you, if you’d like?"

He finishes with a sweet, dimpled smile and maybe that is to be blamed for the way his question bounces right off of you.

"Initiate…me?" You cluelessly blink at him.

"Yeah. Into the club. All the members went through your application and some samples of you emceeing. So it’s not just mine, but everybody’s decision. Insistence, if you will. Request? We – we’d really really like to have you on our team."

Your eyes jump open very wide at that. Join the club of your dreams? He’s finally offering you the spot you thought you’d lost forever? 

Wait, did he say samples? Of you emceeing?  What?

"I’m sorry, what samples?"

A blush tinges his ears. "I contacted your friend Yeji about this, last evening. Please don’t be mad at her, she just wanted to help you. She told me how much this means to you… and then sent me a couple of clips of you managing a stage during a kids’ talent show in your neighborhood. You were really impressive, Y/N."

Holy fucking hell, you're going to scream. 

First at Hwang Yeji for going behind your back and selling you to the enemy, no matter what her motivation might’ve been. And then because your idol just complimented you on something you've learned from him.

"Th–thank you, Soobin." You bite your lip at the stutter in your voice, peering up at him with hesitant eyes. And then you decide to be honest with him again: "Your praise… means a lot to me."

Soobin's eyes sparkle at that, a warm smile pulling at his lips. "And I promise to always remember, respect and honor that. Just one chance?”

You stay like that for the next few moments, looking at him with a soft gaze.

You’ve been polishing your skills to prepare yourself for a spot in this club for a year. If you had gotten the chance to audition normally yesterday, there is no doubt in your mind that you would’ve made the cut. So wouldn’t it be unfair if you give up now?

And then there’s Soobin, of course. It’s going to take you some time to trust him. But if he says he’s willing to work on it, says it with a sincerity in his eyes that gives you goosebumps, you believe it’s worth giving him a chance to correct the misunderstanding he caused yesterday.

You exhale, mind made up, and nod at the guy tentatively. “Promise me you will hear what I have to say before you draw any conclusions?”

He leans closer to you, bringing his face at the same level as yours and nods eagerly. “I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. Do I take this as a yes to joining the club?”

His eagerness makes you crack a smile, which causes Soobin to scrunch his nose bashfully. You inhale deeply and give him another nod. “Yes, you may.”

Time flies really fast after that day as you attempt to find a stable way of juggling your classes and the club duties. 

The work isn’t as much in bulk as it is in the details. Soobin is, as you’d known beforehand, a meticulous perfectionist. Every single activity the club is involved in has to be fully planned in bullet points and a step-wise-step itinerary, and uploaded to the club’s shared Google Drive, days in advance, or Mr. President begins to lose his calm . You, being the newest addition to the bunch of six experienced members, are mostly tasked with assisting the guy on building this very itinerary.

Not that you mind.

The more time you spend next to him, witnessing him in his element up close and actually getting to peer into the creative wonderland that his mind is, the more you find yourself in awe of him. He has been a role model to you for a reason, after all.

With each passing day, you pat yourself on the back for taking a chance by accepting his apology as you slowly begin to see the real him – the version of him that is absolutely nothing like the asshole you met that day. And little by little, your trust in him begins to grow.

Soobin, to his credit, doesn’t leave a single stone unturned to make you feel welcome into the club. He is incredibly patient and delicate with you – always pausing to check whether you have been keeping up with all the new stuff or if you need any guidance.

You’re beginning to understand that it is in his nature to be kind. The word that got around about him has been correct all along – he really is gentle, understanding and sweet. And if he is going an extra mile for you with the intention of appeasing you because he is apologetic? Well… he’s damn well succeeding. 

The two of you have quickly fallen into a routine where you attend your 10 am Media Law class together, collect the communication majors Karina and Jongho from their block, and then report to Arin—the only senior in the club and known to be an effortless ace—in the broadcasting room. After a short briefing about the previous days’ tasks and a rundown of the fresh day’s checklist, you and Soobin depart to the library to work on it. 

After that you both attend your separate afternoon classes, meet up at the broadcasting room at four in the evening for the college announcements that are alternated between Yunjin and Jongin, sophomores and the final two members of the club, and the lot of you finally take your leave some time around six.

The first week is so exhausting for you that you are barely left with enough strength to feed yourself before you collapse into bed every night, let alone think about your academics. You don’t even text Yeji for three whole days, until she accosts you in the library. 

Soobin texts you, that evening, sharing tips on time management, task management as well as a small list of snacks that he munches on to retain energy. To say your heart nearly beats out of your chest at the gesture would be an understatement. 

The following weeks are full of you being on the receiving end of more such thoughtful acts by Soobin. Getting you coffee – one that is made exactly the way you like it – before the evening meet-up, walking you to your dorm if you don’t have anyone from your building accompanying you, repeatedly checking in to ensure you’re well-rested and not overwhelmed by the sudden change in your routine.

And then there is that one time, some three weeks later, when you're filling in for an absent Yunjin and make a mistake during the announcement – landing yourself at the receiving end of Arin's ire. You feel really bad about your mistake as it is, and so the addition of a reprimand from the senior you've come to look up to has you immensely low.

"She said it was a mistake, noona."

Your head snaps up at Soobin's firm statement. His eyebrows are furrowed and arms are crossed as he looks at Arin. You, along with three other pairs of eyes, gawk at the rare sight of Soobin getting angry, and the rarer sight of him going against the club's queen.

"She's apologized thrice. What more do you expect?"

Arin looks taken aback at the brusque interruption, but doesn't put up a fight against the president. "She needs to practice her pauses, Soobin."

"And she will. I'll make sure she does." He gives a small nod to her before turning his gaze to you. Put in spot, you stare back at him with wide eyes. "I'll stay with her while she practices."

Flashing you a small smile of reassurance, Soobin turns back to the other girl and pats her shoulder to calm her down. And because no one in powerful enough to maintain a frown when Soobin unleashes the power of his dimples upon them, Arin eventually smiles in defeated acceptance and dismisses the meeting.

But your heart never quite manages to dismiss the way this incident makes you feel.

Because Soobin holds true to the promise he made as well – accompanying you to the college's courtyard whenever you're both free and practicing speech with you. To be really honest, he seems to be wanting to spend all his free time with you. You find yourself having to say no to his texts at times because you have plans with Yeji, or are too tired to function.

You'd be lying if you claimed that having so much of his attention on you doesn't make your heart to somersaults in your chest. Which is why you begin to wonder where his extra mile of apologetic appeasement ends. 

The whole apology acceptance thing happened between the two of you awhile ago. He really shouldn't have a reason to continue to dote on you as if he has been hired to take care of you. Last time you checked, you were the one with a gigantic crush on him and not the other way round.

A few explanations pop up in your head, but none of them feel plausible enough for you to even think about. So you do the next best thing – share your dilemma with Yeji on an impromptu girls’ night in, one Saturday.

For a moment, your best friend squints her eyes in the way she does when she’s analyzing some complex situation. And then she shrugs a shoulder, pops a pretzel in her mouth and announces: “Sounds like he’s got a crush.”

You blink, caught so off-guard that you’re stunned into silence. It is only when she looks at you with her eyebrows raised that you manage to cough out a scoff. “What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

This time Yeji’s the one to scoff. “Excuse me? What’s so ridiculous about him liking you?”

“Dude. I…” You vaguely gesture to yourself. “I’m me. And he’s…him. Choi Soobin the Great, the prince, the God, the emcee of the year.”

“Uh, I’m sorry, what’s that supposed to mean? You’re you – the princess, the goddess, the prettiest girl on campus and the best student in our year.” She tosses a pretzel at you, scowling. “You’re amazing, bff. Choi Soobin is one lucky motherfucker to have the privilege to spend so much time with you. Of course he’d fall in love! I’d date you if I was into girls!”

The last part of her sentence makes you giggle. “Stop, no one’s talking about love just yet. Do you really think he could be doing all of that with… I don’t know… the intention to woo me?”

“Of course! He’d be a fool not to!” Yeji sits up from her recline on the couch, nearly aggressively grabbing onto your shoulders to shake you. “Didn’t you hear the part where I told you I would date—hell, Ryujin would date you!”

You gape at your best friend, feeling uplifted, reassured and confused all at once. “Wha—? Does Ryujin like girls?”

“No, but she’d still date you. She’s open minded that way.”

“Yeji, what the f—”

“My point is!” She raises a finger up to silence your protest. “You’re fabulous and amazing and gorgeous – have you seen your eyes? Bff, they’re fucking pretty. Do you know what that makes you? More fucking pretty. He likes you, boo, and he's probably got a list of reasons why.”

Yeji’s love language might be words of affirmation through… aggression, but it is surely effective at reminding you of the fact that you’re lovable.

And so more time goes by, with things staying mostly normal if you don’t count the way your cheeks seem to get extra warmer with every cup of coffee that Soobin hands you, lately. If your locked gazes stay locked for longer than necessary, or if his goodbye hugs linger a little and cause your heart to nearly beat out of your chest – it is no one’s business but your own. 

You know, deep in your heart, that you never really got over the guy. He left you heartbroken for a total of 36 hours, while he's spent more than 36 days swirling up a swarm of butterflies in your tummy with every action of his.

It is inevitable for you to fall for him all over again.

You have absolutely no plans of doing anything about it, however, because you have come to really cherish the close friendship you share with Soobin. You like the wheel of routine the two of you constantly spin within and don't wanna change a thing about it.

Although, that is not to say that no change ends up happening.

The wheel of routine makes a detour around a week later, some five weeks after your initiation into the broadcasting club, when you find yourself wrapped in a jacket and still shivering, sitting next to the university’s star athlete on the bleachers in the hockey arena, at six in the morning.

“Is that all? For real?” Choi Yeonjun asks you with his eyes wide in pleasant surprise. “That was quick.”

While you just nod with a chuckle, his girlfriend peers at you from his other side and punches him in the side. “I’ve told you the important questions don’t take that long! Your fangirls just wanna extend the interviews because they wanna ogle you longer.”

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore, I promise,” you tell the girl with a grin, which she returns fully.

“Nah, you don’t even have to tell me because I can see it in your body language,” she mumbles, pressing her cheek into her boyfriend’s shoulder, over which he tips his own head affectionately. “You’re the first ever girl to not view him like a piece of meat. I’m not even kidding.”

“Ah, I’m sorry about that. Your man’s okay, but he’s not my type.”

Yeonjun grins widely at your words, while her girlfriend breaks into laughter because she apparently hasn’t heard anyone use the adjective “okay” for Yeonjun ever before. 

Anyone that tries to get between these two must be crazy, you realize, because you’ve sat with them for less than an hour and can already tell how deeply in love they are. And how stinkingly cute they are together.

Well, the general consensus states that Yeonjun is cute, too. Along with being handsome, beautiful, sexy – and a whole plethora of other adjectives that his fans use for him. But it becomes hard for you to agree with the opinion when your heart, instead, chooses to skip a beat for the dimpled cutie seated two steps away from you, smiling at you from behind his camera.

Right as your eyes meet, Soobin waves a hand at you to let you know he has stopped recording. Nodding, you wave goodbye to the couple next to you and leave the spot to walk up to your cameraman. 

“If I get hypothermia, you’re footing my hospital bills,” you announce as you settle next to a laughing Soobin, intentionally shifting closer to him to hopefully absorb some of his body heat. 

“I told you to bring a jacket, didn’t I?”

“And I did, but it was useless.”

“Because it was denim!” He gives a full belly laugh at that, and the sound is so beautiful to your ears that it becomes hard for you to maintain your scowl of annoyance. “Who brings a denim jacket when asked to carry one?”

“Hey, you texted me at five am!” you whine in complaint. “I could barely open my eyes, my brain wasn’t working!”

“Is that why you didn’t question me?” His tone is a little teasing and so are his raised eyebrows as he smirks at you. “I asked you to come downstairs quickly and you arrived within ten minutes, ready to run away to the mountains with me if I asked. What’s up with that, hm?”

Your cheeks feel on fire at the implication of his words. Clearing your throat, you try to come up with a response, but your heartbeat is too loud in your ears and meeting Soobin’s playful gaze might just make it crash due to the onslaught of overwhelming emotions.

Well. At least you’re feeling a little warmer now.

“You – you said it was a surprise and a huge honor that I’d later thank you for… I got excited,” you mumble, entwining your cold fingers and stuffing your hands beneath your knees to warm them up. “Thanks for thinking of me for this honor but honestly…” You gesture towards Yeonjun with your chin. “I don't really care for athletes. They’re not my type. I prefer brains over brawn. This guy’s taken, anyway, so people should really…”

You trail off when you turn to look at Soobin and find him smiling at you almost knowingly, such unabashed affection in his gaze that your throat closes up with nervousness. 

“I… I – I mean—”

“Yeonjun’s not your type?”

Swallowing past your nerves, you very slowly shake your head. “Is that a surprise?”

He shrugs his shoulders, trying to seem nonchalant, but you see the stiffness that enters his spine at the question. “Yeah, kind of. He’s… well, everyone I know either wants him or wants to be him.”

Wants to be him? Oh… Your lips curve up in a small smile as it begins to make sense to you. “Including you?”

His eyes widen in surprise as he looks at you. “He’s the most popular guy at our uni, Y/N. Who wouldn’t wanna be him?”

You should be surprised by his answer but you somehow aren’t. Because this ties up with a number of things you’ve been unable to fully make sense of about Soobin. Most of all, this explains why it would get him so riled up that people would try to use him and his club – one of the most sacred things he holds in his life – just to get close to Yeonjun. It would also explain why he would have felt insecure and jealous about it.

Emotions such as these are hard to navigate. Within the month that you’ve spent working closely with Soobin, you’ve come to know that he cares about his friends a lot – he truly loves them and would go to extreme lengths to help them whenever and wherever. It pains you that he struggles with this burden on the inside.

You need him to know that he shouldn’t. That he doesn’t need to. 

Which is why you shuffle closer to him, to the point where your thighs brush together, and look into his wide, bunny eyes to tell him that: “When I first saw you, I was fully convinced you were the most popular guy at the uni. And it stayed with me for months until I began my research into uni related facts and opinions and found out about our hockey team. This is why I could never gather enough courage to approach you, you know? You were this tall, handsome and sweet guy – textbook university crush material. How could you not be the most popular?”

Soobin’s cheeks turn pink, then pinker, then bright red, and by the end of your confession, he’s got a trail of redness climbing up to his ears. His eyes stay glued to yours, even as he bites down on his bottom lip.

When you see the way he exhales shakily, you finally release a giggle at his flustered state. “What? Are you really blushing that hard? How're you so cool as an emcee but your cheeks go red when a girl compliments you, Soobin?”

Soobin huffs out a laugh through his nose and rolls his eyes, pursing his lips to bite back his smile. Then he shakes his head. “Not just any girl.” 

This time, you feel a similar blush begin to cover your face. You attempt to joke it away. “I… I’m h–honored, I guess?”

Smirking at your stutters, Soobin simply averts his gaze from yours and goes back to packing up the recording equipment. “Speaking of honors, by the way. This isn't exactly what I was talking about.”

You frown in confusion. “Oh? So what is—wait. Why did you wake me up at five, then?!”

“Woah, easy!” he laughs when you get up and brace your fists on your waist, ready to throw hands. “I brought you here because having your first solo interview with Yeonjun would give you a good boost of publicity for your future with the club.”

“Ow, are we using him for clout?” You scrunch your nose up when Soobin proudly nods.

“Precisely. And also to give you a small rehearsal so that you know what all to focus on when you prepare for the freshman orientation that’s coming up soon.”

You freeze in the middle of a nod.

To prepare you for what? 

Your brain refuses to comprehend the words. He couldn’t possibly be talking about the orientation, right? 

Eyes wide and jaw dropped, you stare at Soobin while he seamlessly continues to speak.

“You're pretty comfortable with the mic and you actually enjoy interacting with groups. I still remember the clips your friend had shown me. Orientation stage requires the ability to interact well and improvise upon the script efficiently, because you’re tasked with making sure these bunch of seventeen year olds feel welcome into their new surroundings. And you, ma’am, happen to be an ace at both the arts.”

Still in disbelief, you sit next to him again and forward a hand to hold onto his forearm, bringing his focus back on you. “Soobin… are you sure? I’ve – I’ve been here for a month, and—”

“And you were amazing even before you joined us.” He turns to you to take both your palms between his, and says your name. A surge of sparks passes through your nerve endings at the warm contact, but Soobin’s gaze grounds you – it’s so open and honest that it compels you to believe every word he says to you. “You’ve only improved with each day, right? You will be great, I’m absolutely sure.”

Nodding slowly, you begin to smile when he does.

Giving your hands a jerk, Soobin points at the couple seated a few feet away. “Just you wait and see, you’re about to go viral when this bit is released. The one girl that remains unaffected by Choi Yeonjun’s charm? Oh, you’re gonna pull so many admirers within a week. Get ready for fanboys crushing on you and sliding into your DMs. Bet they’ll have a fan page up and running before your next public appearance.” 

You break into laughter, craning away from him at his teasing. But Soobin tugs at your hands to pull you back up, this time bringing you closer to him than you were before. The previous traces of playfulness have given way to a small, expectant smile on his face.

"Do I get brownie points for being the first in line?"

What? What? An awkward chuckle leaves you, quickly dwindling when Soobin's smile remains unchanged as he continues to look into your eyes. "What… what are you talking about?"

He tilts his head sweetly, giving your hands a small squeeze as he says your name. "As if I haven't been so obvious… You're the most talented member our group has seen in a while, you know? I can't look away from you when you're working and, like, initially I thought I was being a fan… But then I started to daydream about your bright eyes, gorgeous smiles, your cute giggles, your huge fucking heart that is always so kind to everyone, and…" Soobin pauses with a sigh, cheeks turning red and dimples flashing. "Come on, are you really gonna make me say it?"

Your breath comes in stuttered gasps as you try to gather your thoughts. "Soo–Soobin, I… I… Do you really…?"

"Really like you and really want to go out with you? Yeah, I do.” He smiles at you, bringing your faces close enough to boop your nose with his own. "Is there a problem?"

"You… like me?" You feel terribly confused, somewhat lost, and just a bit scared. If Soobin doesn't mean it with one hundred percent sincerity, you'll never recover from this hurt. So you just try to deflect: "But you barely know me?"

He pulls away with a small scoff of disbelief, eyes widening in surprise. "So it's believable for you to have a crush on me when you'd never even held a conversation with me, but you can't accept that I like you because you're the most beautiful, most intelligent and the most caring person I've ever met in my life?"

Your breath hitches on an exhale – and you're unable to breathe in again for long moments after that. 

He thinks you're beautiful, intelligent and caring.

He likes you.

He actually likes you.

Yeji's words of aggressive affirmative circle in your head: He likes you, boo, and he's probably got a list of reasons why.

She was… actually right? Holy shit…

You're so freaking emotional right now, you might cry.

A cross between a chuckle and a sniffle escapes you despite your attempts of stifling it, catching Soobin by surprise. His hands immediately let go of yours to cup your cheeks in concern.

"Hey, hey, what happened? Please don't think too hard about—"

"Soobin," you cut him off with a whisper. "I like you, too. So, so much."

A slow smile begins to curl his lips up, beautifully. "You do?"

"I have for so long. I… don't think I ever stopped."

"Even with the way I hurt you so bad?" His face becomes somber for a moment. 

"Yes, even then. You've shown me who you really are, Soobin, and that person is amazing. You've proven to me that I caught you in a moment of weakness, and… I think I understand it now more than ever." You smile when his lashes flutter, eyes gazing at you as if in wonder. "Besides, I think I forgave you when you first got me my correct coffee order with that cute smile of yours."

He blushes again. "Ah, so my smile is cute?"

"The cutest." You solemnly nod, cheeks still held in his palms. "Your whole face is."

"Well then, I hope you're okay with my cute face doing this?"

You know what is coming as you watch him erase the space between your mouth and his, and yet you're not nearly prepared for the way your blood turns electric the moment his plush, heart-shaped lips make contact with yours. Pure fire surges through you, body strung tight one moment and then fallen pliant in his hold the next.

Soobin's thumbs brush against the heated flesh of your cheeks, as if attempting to comfort your loud heartbeat – but it's to no avail. Your heart works faster and faster with every push of his mouth against yours, so full of giddiness that it eventually seems to levitaties up and above your body, leaving you weightless and breathless.

You try to kiss him back to the best of your abilities, but you feel like you've been entranced – held in a dreamlike state that has rendered you completely immobile and turned your brain to goo.

Soobin seems to recognise your condition, somehow, pulling away from the kiss with a chuckle brushed against your slightly parted lips. Lidded eyes look into yours with a smile held in them, his chocolate irises turned to thin rings due to how dilated his pupils are. 

"You good?"

His voice comes out all hoarse and breathless, making your stomach clench with desire and you're instantly spurred into motion.

Reaching out with both your hands, you grip onto the back of Soobin's neck and the side of his jaw, and this time pull him in for a proper kiss with equal participation. His breath hitches for a moment, but is released in the form of a small grunt when you open your mouth against his – and that is all you need to absolutely lose yourself into the taste and feel of Choi Soobin.

You would've probably stayed lost for quite a bit too, had a loud whistle not echoed around the arena, making both you and Soobin jump apart with startled gasps. Wide eyed, you look at each other, and then two stairs above you.

Yeonjun's girlfriend is grinning at you with her entire teeth on display, while the guy himself has his arm extended towards the two of you, thumb pointed downwards.

"Her first interview isn't even out yet, dude!" he calls out, booing Soobin with his entire arm. "Literally obliterating her popularity before she could even gather bitches, you're so lame and insecure, Soob, boo hoooo!"

Soobin tosses a random plastic case towards the guy, whining into your ear as he rests his chin on your shoulder grumpily. You giggle at his pout, entwining your hands together to bring them up and press a soft kiss to the back of his.

"Are we going on that date before or after the interview is aired, then?" you tease the guy, wiggling your eyebrows.

Soobin glares at you through playfully narrowed eyes beneath lowered eyebrows, until you're giggling again and he's kissing your smile. "Definitely before."

© yeonboy 2023 // do not steal, copy or repost. respect your local content creators, kaythanks.

#txt #txt x you #txt x reader #soobin #choi soobin #soobin fanfic #soobin x you #soobin x reader #txt imagines #soobin imagines #txt fluff #soobin fluff #txt fanfic #txt scenarios #soobin scenarios #txt angst #soobin angst #tomorrow x together

[shimishimii]

six degrees of separation [first part]

Kuroo Tetsurou x gn reader

⎯ [wc: 2.5k] fluff to angst, has proper closure, but it’s part 1 of a mini six-part series, taglist is open, have a lovely day thanks for reading!

⎯ exes to enemies to lovers

| main masterlist | ♡ | next |

“who made your first love experience tragic, and you almost tear up every time you remember it?” your friend asks, you glance at the folded polaroid behind your phone case.

Kuroo Tetsurou did. But you shake his name away from your head, “just someone who likes this ice cream.”

As the summer breeze warms your cheeks and melts your ice cream, you felt you were back to when it started.

Classes were cancelled that day due to the high heat index and walking home under that sun would be brutal. Or maybe you are just making excuses when you see a raven-haired guy, a popular face among sophomores and freshmen. You notice he often stops by at the convenience store near your university. Maybe it sells some amazing snacks, you thought.

You began to like this specific popsicle the convenience store sells. It has cute designs, some based off on cartoon characters. But what you like about it the most was the short message engraved in the popsicle stick.

Days after, next thing you knew, you were always stopping by at the same convenience store, buying the same ice cream, sitting at the same corner, looking at the same guy.

His eyes were hazel from afar, and you wonder if you would see hints of gold and honey if you could just see him closer. His eyes are often narrowed and piercing, reminds you of a cunning feline's gaze that when he catches you sometime staring at him, it’s as if he has every answer for the questions you have yet to ask.

He’s definitely the athletic type. He could reach the tall shelves in the store and would sometimes help out the staff. He holds out the doors for women and elderly, greeting them when they walk in. He tells the little kids which snacks they should pick, helping them compute the total amount before paying. You also tried out his food recommendations and oh boy, he does not fail. He dances to some convenience store songs, sometimes he does it awkwardly, but most of the time he is actually talented.

You like seeing him smile, that soft genuine smile that appears not so often, but you could only look at him for a few seconds, because god you get weak when he smiles like that. You start to observe the things that makes him smile. His friends, eating, some science jokes you overhear, but so far no relationship partner. That was what you remembered. It was a relief.

You prepared a few conversation starters, but only your gaze tracing his silhouette could pass on the words left unsaid.

You bought the same popsicle you always like, hoping the message engraved on it would be different this time. You got the word unlucky marked on the popsicle stick yesterday, and also the other day, and some days before that.

Today may be the day your streak of misfortune ends before you could even see the message on the popsicle stick. Seems like luck is on your side this time because the guy you find cute takes the seat beside you. That’s new, you think. He was always with his friends. On the opposite table, near the counter, that was their spot. Today, he is alone.

Your hand felt sticky. The popsicle was dripping.

He points at your long-gone ice cream. “I really like that flavor” He smiles. “And that design too.”

You smile at him. I know. You always pick them at the bottom most part of the fridge. You compare their sizes even if they look controversially the same.

You look away after a few seconds, processing the features of his face like how he does have specks of gold in his eyes and that he smiled back. That damn smile. The dripping syrup slowly becomes a hazard to your fresh from laundry white pants. It did not catch your attention. But fortunately, it caught Kuroo’s.

“Excuse me, but your ice cream's got a mind of its own, it seems,” he says. “and you would not want that on white pants.”

“oh no,” Too late. You panic scooping out the falling liquid, still, a few drops painted your pants. “but I just washed this” you say, frowning.

He chuckles lightly, offering a tissue, “here, use this, ice cream stains can be hard to remove,” he hands you the tissue. “I just know”

I know that too. You once bought an ice cream sandwich, bit and kept it at your mouth as you played some games, and forgot you were eating an ice cream. Your white shirt was a disaster after.

“thanks” you took the tissue, cleaning your hand. You tried to remove the stain on your pants after. “that probably looked embarrassing” you kept scrubbing, smiling apologetically.

Kuroo places his hand at the back of his head. “Not really, it happened to me once or twice too”, he looks away, muttering softly, “…and you still look pretty.”

some imaginary audience cheers at the back of his mind, and other side of audience were gripping tightly, unsure if the smile on your face meant ‘that was cringe’ or ‘thanks’

He can’t believe he brags about his natural way with people but took weeks before having the courage to start a conversation with you. His friends would definitely ask him why. He was simply glad you like that ice cream flavor too and he has spare tissues.

you may have traded off a piece of your health from consuming ice cream every day before this conversation happened, but you still thank your past self for that sacrifice.

You remember the first time you met whenever you look back at those two popsicles sticks with engraved messages framed on your wall.

“you know, we could have known each other from jogging in the morning or at a gym” Kuroo looks at you with a raised brow, “but no, we both just have to be unhealthy.”

Kuroo replies with a soft smile, “we had an unhealthy first meet that’s because I was meant to take care of you”.

It started good. Because the feelings that bloomed in your heart may be the same to what Kuroo feels. The evidence of love and affection was written all over the year of your relationship. In each polaroid photo displayed across the wall of your room, you know cupid did his job well.

The first photo, marked on the first month you met, when Kuroo lets you lean on his shoulders while he plays whatever game he just discovered.

Second photo, on the fourth month, there was barely any context, it’s simply a photo of you together smiling. Because when Kuroo smiles, that smile you always love, you know that meant he was happy to see you, how he feels light and at ease with you.

Third photo, the seventh month, you are in Kuroo’s arms, his embrace gave warmth on that day he first saw you cry.

Fourth photo, the ninth month, in an expensive dinner date where you laughed with him because of his clip-on tie. Kuroo was too nervous that he felt his necktie choking him, and changed it minutes before you go out. That clip-on tie had pink paw prints design.

You hold the polaroid. In that photo, you both have wine glasses on your hand with him kissing your cheek. And you remember how he casually thinks of compliments that would make you blush, your hair, your clothes, and even noticing the new lip gloss you tried.

It was love, as you believed. This feeling. Because what else could it be? It was a conclusion you made up without prior knowledge to what love actually is.

You trusted the love Kuroo gave, never asked anything more than it, never questioned it.

Even if everything started to feel like it was not really romantic love. That it was just a thoughtful smile, a concerned hug, his natural way of words, and the love that was from just a friend who happened to like you a lot.

Yes, he was friendly, caring, charming, and thoughtful. You have no right to list a job description for a boyfriend, shouldn't you?

And they say great couples are simply best friends in love.

Looking back at most memories, it felt like you were really just a best friend, who happened to have the privilege of kissing him.

Someone he likes to be with, not someone he falls in love with.

It never was supposed to be a big deal. But people would often mistake you as ‘just another friend’. He was the same with everyone and you don’t want to dictate him to change.

But if he treats everyone the same, then it means what he does for you was not actually that special. It's just his natural way of being towards everyone. You started to think, maybe you were not a priority, just another friend amongst many.

You stay awake past midnight, with your thoughts loud, when you sink into the realization that there might not be really anything special at all. Because everything he did for you, warm hugs, compliments, leaning on his shoulders, those were just the perks of being Kuroo’s friend.

So, who are you in his life?

You know you are more than his friend.

Until less people stopped believing you were lovers, and maybe you stopped believing as well.

“So you’re close with him?” someone asks even if it was obvious you are Kuroo’s special someone. Maybe it did not look like that. Kuroo simply agrees that you two are close. Same likes, agrees with almost anything, vibes a lot. Typical best friend qualities. Of course you wanted to feel it was more than that.

“That’s Kuroo’s special friend” and that might be the worst introduction you have ever received. The word special, losing the meaning it once held.

At least you were someone to him, that still meant something right?

Sure, it was your own demons. How you started to feel like crouching when he stands beside you. His tall figure shining in daylight as you walk down the street during your dates, but as hours pass by and the sun changes position, you notice you have become just a shadow.

Worse, you started to feel like you were not enough when you're with him.

You appreciate who Kuroo is.

Dating him was a gamble against your own insecurities. You know what you were getting into, you know the hole you might fall into. But you haven't learned yet how to get up. As each monthsary gets celebrated, you were falling further and deeper into the abyss of your inferiority. And Kuroo did not even notice you were no longer beside him during parties, or at some special events. He forgot what ice cream flavor you like. He no longer corrects people mistaking you as just his friend.

On your first anniversary, the wine on your glass was gone a few minutes ago, you needed the courage.

Kuroo reaches out for your hand, you held it for a second, squeezing it slightly, and slowly letting it go. He clicks his tongue, noticing your avoidance for weeks. You used to hold hands everywhere you went, but now you avoid touching altogether.

“Can you at least look at me?” he asks.

You shift your gaze from his hands to his face.

"Why won't you look at me?" his voice was firm, almost disappointed.

"Because every time I do, I see what we've become."

It was his turn to look away.

"Do you remember when we first met?" you ask.

"I try not to."

You don’t know what he meant by that.

The silence between you grows louder with each passing day, until it's suffocating. Kuroo is not wearing a clip-on tie, you noticed. He tugs his necktie, adjusting it every now and then.

You try to salvage what's left of your relationship, maybe this anniversary date should do it. But it's like trying to hold onto sand slipping through your fingers.

You pour another batch of wine on your glass before speaking, "You know how you always used to say, 'The grass is greener where you water.' Remember?"

"Yeah, I still stand by that. It's about perspective."

"Perspective? How about the perspective of feeling invisible in a relationship?” Kuroo does not like where you’re going, where this is going. “Do you—do you even still see me?"

"Of course not” He tries to hold your hand again and you hold onto him. “of course I see you.”

Kuroo speaks again. “But sometimes, what you think doesn't really matter.”

You scoff.

“But those are my feelings” your voice is getting higher, you adjusted your seat, you feel like sinking in the chair. "So my feelings don't matter to you?"

"No, that's not what I meant.” he sighs before continuing, “I just think you're overthinking these things."

"Overthinking? Maybe I'm just realizing I deserve better. Maybe, just maybe, I deserve to be seen and valued." you try to catch your breath. It sounded almost like a plea.

His lips stay pressed on a thin line. He was no longer holding your hand. You were looking at his direction. He is looking down, holding his fork, tapping his plate.

You know staying in this relationship could mean getting invisible day by day. Not until he could no longer see you, worse, until you could no longer see yourself.

Sucks to end it that way, you could almost laugh bitterly at this situation, cliche even.

He looks at you, for the last time that he could, then mumbles. "I never wanted it to come to this."

You slowly look away, your eyes betraying a mixture of hurt and determination. "Let’s just leave this memory as a good one” you hold his hand, for the last time that you could, “I don’t want to end things ugly and start hating you.”

Because you know you never could. You wanted things to end while he was still someone you love.

Kuroo was not looking at you anymore. He felt a shiver, realizing the absence of warmth from your hand.

“Isn’t it enough that I see and value you?”

“Do you really see me? Or am I just another name on your close friends list?”

He sighs again, longer than the previous, as if he was afraid of speaking more, "Well, if that's how you feel, I’m sorry"

"Is that all you have to say?"

“You know, I—” Kuroo can’t understand why he can’t say those words. It takes three words for him to fix this. He stayed silent. And it took just a fraction of his silence for you to realize there was no use to trying to fix this.

taglist (open):

#haikyuu #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu series #haikyuu x gn!reader #kuroo tetsurō #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x y/n #kuroo x y/n #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #keybored #kuroo fluff #kuroo angst #hope you enjoy reading!!! #have a lovely day lovely hooman

[gothlcsan]

Good Boy ; JEONG YUNHO

PAIRING sub!yunho , dom afab!reader

GENRE 18+ smut

SYNOPSIS Yunho is a sophomore in college, frequently stressed out by his younger brother, Yejun. He comes home to a living room full of freshmen and one happens to catch his eye, you.

WORD COUNT 4106

WARNINGS puppy play, masturbation, dom!reader, sub!yunho, overstimulation, nipple play, degradation, rough sex, penetration (strap), unprotected sex (no mention of protection), voyeurism, face smacking, blowjob, biting and kissing

♫ death wish - role model

a/n day ten of kinktober ! i know i said i wouldn’t repeat idols but .. he’s my ult and makes me sick and twirl my hair. > < so, let me pass this one time.. if you enjoyed please consider liking and reblogging! thank you. ♡ ～（ゝ。∂)

“Yejun, you cannot be serious right now.”

Yunho is the oldest out of two sons which comes with its own set of responsibilities and this moment was a perfect example of those unspoken responsibilities. He stares in horror, his younger brother surrounded by his friends with snack wrappers everywhere on the floor, empty bottles of soju dripping onto the table. His brother, Yejun, smiles at him gesturing towards with an already emptied soju bottle.

“Do you mind getting me another?”

Yunho yanks it out of his hand and slams it down onto the table, yelling at them to get up, clean their mess and leave. Yejun whines that it’s not fair but is quickly silenced once he catches his older brother’s expression, instantly sobering up and running to sort their trash. It was midterm season and an already stressed Yunho wanted nothing more than to just go home, hide in his room, and relax. He wasn’t expecting to unlock the front door and be met with his brother and his group of friends piled around the tv playing games.

Once the living room was cleaned and reorganized he had calmed down enough to agree to let Yejun’s friends stay but under the conditions they had to leave before he woke up. He didn’t have anything against them nor disliked them, he just knew they were going to be extremely loud and he wouldn’t be able to relax. Sighing, Yunho turns to finally head to his room but stops as he hears his brother call his name, turning back around, raising an eyebrow.

“Did you not bring your boyfriend with you today? I was hoping you would have so I could show these idiots on how to actually play this game.”

Yunho blinks before sighing with his hand pressed firmly against his forehead.

“Yejun, for the millionth time, Mingi and I aren’t dating and unlike you, he does more than game so he couldn’t come over today.” Yunho walks away entering his room but not before shaking from a shiver running up his spine swearing that the younger freshman sitting next to Yejun was staring into his soul.

For the following week, Yunho becomes aware of the freshman. She was the newest addition of his brother’s friend group, the silent type but clearly had a staring problem Yunho concluded. They ran into each other here and there, especially at home, you walking in on Yunho getting changed in the bathroom, both blushing and yelling apologies at each other. Exchanging numbers in case you needed anything from Yejun, Yunho wondered why you wouldn’t just text his brother but you were attractive and he wasn’t opposed to receiving texts from you.

Days go by without incident, finally seeming to go back to normal until Yunho sees his brother's friends again, being a day before their college exams, Yunho tiredly trudging into his bedroom not stopping once to say hi to anyone. He knew he had to study but he couldn’t get the motivation to, falling face first into bed as he allowed his eyelids to shut.

He’s restless, not being able to relax nor sleep from the loud chaos coming from the living room, Yunho huffs in irritation and turns to lay on his back, biting his lip as he takes his cock out. Moaning involuntarily behind his hand, he begins to stroke himself slowly. Stress melted from his body as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, no longer holding his moans back by much, rocking his hips to meet flush with his hand. Yunho shakes as he stops mid stroke knowing rubbing one off wouldn’t be enough, opening the drawer of his nightstand to grab his wand, body shaking at the expected pleasure from just turning it on, the vibrations making his stomach tighten.

Placing the wand directly onto the head of his cock, Yunho squeaks and moves it away, he was more sensitive than he imagined. He plays with the settings before he’s lost in his own pleasure, head hanging to the side with drool on his cheek, wand pressed against his cock, two fingers working his hole. Moans fall from his lips, panting as he feels his stomach tighten and thighs shake. Yunho doesn’t realize how loud he’s being, fingers desperately working to help chase his high, wand pressed against his groin as he goes back to stroking himself, using his precum to lube himself to jerk off faster. His head was in the clouds, chest rising and falling quickly as he pants with each stroke. He knew he was going to break, a third finger being more than enough for Yunho to cry out and cum onto his chest, the wand making him shake from the overstimulation.

It’s minutes of laying still and catching his breath before he’s sitting up and grabbing a tissue off his desk, cleaning himself up. It’s a couple minutes later when he realizes his door in fact did not shut entirely behind him when he came in, fear sinking into Yunho’s stomach. Has anyone heard him?

Yunho waits roughly thirty minutes before he opens his door further, poking his head out and looking both ways, darting to the bathroom. He properly cleans himself up, giving himself a pep talk before walking quietly into the kitchen, grabbing a water from the fridge; jumping out of his skin when he closes the door and turns to go back to his room, coming face to face with you.

“Can I help you?” Yunho asks with uncertainty, confused on why you were standing there. You point over his shoulder behind him towards the fridge, moving past Yunho.

“I was going to grab a snack if that’s okay with you, Yunho. It is, right?”

Yunho only responds with a quick nod, blush creeping up his neck. He couldn’t explain it but you made him feel embarrassed, even when he did normal day to day tasks. He watched quietly sipping from his water while you walked around the kitchen preparing snacks for your friends, turning around suddenly with a smirk on your lips.

“Do you need something, Yunho?”

Reality sets in for Yunho and he frantically shakes his head, leaving the room, not looking behind himself once until he slams his bedroom door behind him. A second wave of reality washes over him as he jumps into bed. Cursing at himself for getting flustered, hating himself for having a hardon for his brother’s best friend.

It has been months since their last awkward encounter, a few weeks since Yunho started purposely avoiding you. He’d stay busy in class all day, going out with Mingi and San at night just to hopefully avoid running into you. He hated how bothered he was by you, he hated more the idea of admitting he could possibly have a thing for the younger, an internal battle he didn’t want to face yet. Their last real interaction being the thing that set this new daily routine of avoiding you. He wasn’t expecting to come home from a late night of studying at the library, turning the corner to his bedroom as you walked out of the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around your body. Yunho’s eyes widened along with his mouth as he quickly shut both and turned away to rest his head against his bedroom door.

“Oh, hi, Yunho.”

“I didn’t mean to look,” Yunho stumbles on his words, body frozen and burning up from embarrassment of gawking at you.

“It’s okay, Yunho. It’s your house so I’m sorry for freaking you out. I just got back with your brother from working out so I wanted to shower.”

Yunho opens his eyes and turns around, holding his breath as he struggles to keep eye contact. Your hair is wet allowing water droplets to fall and cascade down to your collarbones and exposed chest, causing Yunho’s cheeks to flare up from shyness.

“It’s ok, I just wasn’t expecting it, you look great. Sorry, I got to go. Study, I have to study.” Yunho opens his bedroom door, leaving you alone in the hallway before you even get a word in. Chuckling softly as you walk down the hallway into the guest bedroom thinking Yunho was the cutest thing on earth.

So, it wasn’t that much of a shock once Yunho started avoiding you more seriously, doing everything he could to ensure their paths wouldn’t cross. He felt awkward, staring at you and for the vulgar images he thought of while stroking himself. Yunho felt dirty and didn’t want to continue feeling as such so his brilliant course of action was to completely forget you ever existed. Which he failed at clearly and very quickly.

Once again, Yunho laid in bed with his hand covering his mouth as he moaned profusely as he stroked himself. Sweat beaded along his eyebrow as he continued to chase his high. His mind was in a haze, so caught up in his high he nearly screamed as you crossed his mind.

Why now?

Yunho felt disgusting but his hand continued to stroke himself, faster now, he didn’t want to acknowledge how hard he had gotten from the idea of the two of you having sex. Imagining how you would feel pinning him down, your lips exploring his skin and leaving open mouth kisses onto the skin on his inner thighs. He wanted to feel small against you (despite the respectable height difference), his body shaking as he slips from any reality where he was in control.

“Fuck, y/n, please,” Yunho groans with a whisper as he reaches his high, a jumble of swear words and moans falling from his lips as he came onto his hand. Turning his head and gasping when he sees you staring at him with wide eyes. Yunho scrambles to cover himself with a blanket, you quickly slamming the door and apologizing saying that you hadn’t seen anything - - that Yejun wanted him. He was doing so well at avoiding you and the one night he put his guard down, you just had to show up. He felt disgusted and that feeling left Yunho wanting to violently throw up.

He quickly cleans himself up and pushes past you to wash his hands, ignoring you entirely to go see his brother. He had decided that he was not going to allow himself to let you affect him anymore. Which, once again, he fails at miserably. The universe must hate him or you’re a literal devil, proven clear a few weeks later when Yunho is now staring at you in horror as the youngest is holding a pair of puppy ears and pointing at Yunho’s closet.

“I was looking for my brother’s jacket I let you borrow. I asked Yejun to ask you and he said to just grab it because you were with your boyfriend, I am so sorry.”

Yunho angrily snatched away the ears, grabbing the jacket off his desk chair, throwing it into your direction and told you to stop being so nosy, wanting you to get out. You quickly agree and start to make your way out of Yunho’s room, stopping once Yunho calls out your name in a soft tone.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

You only smile and nod, pointing at the ears in Yunho’s hand.

“So, you aren’t into pet play with him?”

Yunho turns into a dark shade of red, telling you to shut up and slams the door behind the younger, hearing you laugh all the way down the hallway. What a sinister prick, Yunho thought.

After their (Yunho’s) failed attempts at avoiding you, he gives up on that quest; the two of you rapidly get closer each day. The friendship was short -lived, only taking a month before they started dating. Yunho feels a lot less guilty stealing quick glances and thinking about you in his alone time. It’s not too long after when they revisit Yunho’s collection buried in the corner of his closet, Yunho embarrassingly explaining to you what pet play was, who laughed and nodded, saying you already knew what it was.

It didn’t take long before you were calling Yunho puppy.

Not that Yunho minded it, eating up every praise dished out to him.

You were always a very soft dom when it came to Yunho, it was something that Yunho admired but he wanted to see you get mad. So, he did everything he could think of to annoy you, not listening, acting oblivious to others flirting with him, laughing too hard at stranger’s jokes. This was quickly caught by you, who was now not only annoyed by your boyfriend acting out of character, but annoyed with Yunho's seemingly carefree attitude.

Once they get home, you seem awfully quiet, and Yunho starts to worry that he genuinely messed up and upset you, quietly following you to your shared bedroom. Yunho jumps as he feels an arm snake around his waist, bringing him down to sit on their lap, turning to stare at you. Excitement and fear crept in Yunho’s stomach, your face was unreadable and calm, too calm. Shivers running over his body as you worked. No words are spoken as you place a collar around Yunho’s neck, leash attached to the front, Silently moving him off your lap, placing him down onto the bed to retrieve the ears in the closet. You placed them onto the top of Yunho's head, adjusting them to sit perfectly. Firmly telling him to lift his arms, Yunho listening to these orders, biting his lip willst you lift off his shirt. He blushes profusely when you help him remove his jeans, sitting back onto the bed quietly watching as you take off your own shirt. Yunho dug his nails into his thighs as his eyes darted to yours. They're thick, pretty, Yunho wants to kiss them but he’s brought to you as you move to stand directly in front of him. You wrap the leash around your dominant hand, yanking on it, causing Yunho to slam down onto his knees, a gasp of air coming from the elder’s chest.

“Why can’t you be a good puppy? Answer me, Yunho.”

“I didn’t mean,” he’s silenced with a second yank on the leash, hissing as he slams chest first against your knees.

“Dogs don’t speak now do they?”

Yunho swallows nervously and barks. It’s deep, yet quiet which clearly isn’t what you wanted, eyebrows furrowed as you stand up and press the heel of your foot against Yunho’s lap.

“Again.”

Yunho barks until his throat hurts, you mockingly laughing as you feel him harden against your foot, precum soaking through his boxers.

You remove your foot and push Yunho backwards, shaking your head then squatting down in front of him, placing a hand under his chin, tilting Yunho’s head back to get a real good look into his eyes.

“You’re not trying too hard on being my favourite puppy, hm? Will I need to bring Yejun in here to show you how a real puppy acts?”

Yunho whines, sniffling as he shakes his head. He places his head onto the top of your knees and nuzzles the skin there, praying that you will forgive him for his actions. He knows that you and his brother never had anything past a platonic relationship, you using it to only rile Yunho up with his possessiveness.

“Sit up.”

Yunho springs up instantly and sits politely, resting his hands flat against his thighs as he waits for his next set of instructions. Watching closely as you walk around the room grabbing various things and placing them onto Yunho’s bed, his stomach burning red hot thinking of what you could possibly do to him.

“Up. Up, pup.”

Yunho crawls onto the bed, sitting politely on the edge on all fours, staring up at you who’s positioned yourself at the foot of the bed. Your eyes are dark, something that excited Yunho so much it sent shivers throughout his entire body. He sits obediently whilst you brush back the hair that sat on his face, responding to each touch with a hum.

“Do you remember what happens to puppies that talk back to their owners, pup?”

Yunho takes too long to answer, resulting in a sharp slap against his thighs, the cool leather whip leaving marks against them. He bites his lip knowing making any sort of noise would result in another hit. You ask again, Yunho scrambling for words that come out incoherently resulting in another hit. You demand him to strip off his boxers, wanting to see his thighs. The two of you continue to go back and forth for a few minutes, Yunho’s mind so blurred he can’t even think while you get fed up and grab him by the back of his hair, bringing his face towards your own, only being a mere few centimeters apart.

“Maybe this will help you remember, pup.”

Yunho’s eyes widen as his mouth is filled with your strap, tears stinging the corner of his eyes at the sensation. His throat burns as you rock your hips making Yunho take every inch of it, fingers tight around the puppy’s hair. It’s a delicious feeling that Yunho enjoys much more than he’d like to admit, gagging around the younger as his mind blurs even more. He reaches down to stroke himself, pin like needle sensations running through his hands from you striking him with the whip. It makes you pull out of Yunho’s mouth, the puppy whining at the sudden loss of fullness, looking up at you with a confused look.

“You can’t even listen for five minutes can you, ungrateful brat.” you hissed before grabbing Yunho’s cock into your hand, squeezing the head into harshly.

“It’s a shame you have a huge cock, you know? You can’t even use it properly.”

Yunho whines hungrily at your degrading words, fighting the urge to buck his hips up into the younger’s grip. You’re quick to notice the pup’s eagerness, chuckling, dropping your hold and slapping Yunho’s cock watching as the elder yelps. His ears are filled by your degrading words as he slips from any hold of reality he had before, begging for you to forgive him, begging to be touched. Leaning forward a bit, you duck down to kiss Yunho on the lips, not being able to suppress the laugh falling against said lips before landing another firm slap onto Yunho’s cock.

“Now the puppy wants to listen? You’re pathetic, Jeong Yunho.”

“Please,” is all Yunho could shakily muster out, tears running down his cheeks. His cock flushed red against his abdomen, begging to be touched. You pull Yunho towards yourself, bringing his legs to hang off the bed, then painfully slowly starts climbing onto Yunho’s lap.

“Master, please.” Yunho groans as he begs, panting at the closeness of their bodies makes him feel as if he’s on fire. Yet, you have none of it, telling him to be both quiet and be good. You shakily raise your hips and place your lube covered thighs around Yunho’s cock and press them firmly together, resulting in Yunho throwing his head back with a cry. The lewd, wet sounds of you moving your hips, thighs tight around Yunho’s cock made the elder squeeze the comforter between his fingers, body shaking like a leaf.

“Y/n-ah, please.”

Your body stiffens, looks down at Yunho with a glare, loosening your thighs and snaking a hand up to roughly grab Yunho by the throat.

“Who are you speaking to?”

Yunho apologizes quickly with tears pricking his eyes, trying to kiss the hand wrapped around his throat, not making it anywhere near close. Babbling on that you are his master, how he’s sorry for messing up, begging to be forgiven, You must’ve forgiven him because now you were shifting positions and lowering yourself to stand up off the bed. With a quick snap of your fingers, Yunho is sitting on top of you, his cock heavy on his abdomen, ears stained red from embarrassment.

Running your hands down Yunho's body, finding a home holding his thighs, Yunho groaning from the added pressure on his welts. He swallows hard as you speak to him as if he’s the dumbest person on earth, hands lifting him up and instructing Yunho to position himself prettily on the strap. You simply loved the way your much larger boyfriend looked and acted so small around you, pretty long limbs that turned limp as he melted from your fiery touch. Yunho whines as he slowly sinks himself onto your strap, clenching around the full feeling making you tilt your head back with a moan. Yunho loved how you praised him for being so good, acting as if you could feel every bit of it. Once he got used to the feeling, Yunho was rocking his hips, hands pressed against your chest as he bounced. The sound of skin slapping against skin made Yunho shiver, dipping his head down to hungrily kiss you, whining as you groped his ass, smacking one cheek. The soft jingling of the bell on Yunho’s collar was in beat with his hips, you growing impatient with Yunho’s pace, hooking a leg under his and flipping him over so that you could easily pin Yunho against the mattress.

“Let me teach you how to feel real good, pup,” you spoke softly in Yunho’s ear, kissing down from behind his ear to the center of his shoulder blades. Feeling Yunho shiver underneath you and whining from the teasing, you carefully realign the strap with Yunho’s hole before beginning to slowly push back into him.

“Master, please,” Yunho clenches the comforter between his fingers, looking over his shoulder to watch as you bottom out. He’s greedy, pushing his ass back to meet flush with your hips, who doesn’t accept Yunho’s actions. You’re quick to grab a fistful of Yunho’s pretty brown hair and yank it making him yelp and apologize instantly. It doesn’t do much good, you keeping a steady hand on Yunho’s hair while quickening your thrusts, the bells on Yunho’s collar and doggy ears filling out the room. Yunho babbles about how close he is, the comforter now clenched tight between his teeth, you only continuing to drill into Yunho. Poor pup could barely breathe from begging to cum, crying over how full he felt, how good you made him feel. You knew Yunho was close and fucked out, his glassy eyes full of tears and drool pooling in the space between his cheek and the comforter. His thighs quivering and sweat causing his hair to stick to his face. You couldn’t help but touch all of Yunho with exploring hands, encouraging your pretty pup to hold on a little longer, spanking the side of his thigh as Yunho shakes his head.

“You’ll do as I say, brat. Now, be a good puppy and wait until I tell you otherwise.”

You pull out, receiving a whine from Yunho, rolling him onto his back. Placing your hand against Yunho’s stomach, moving it down slowly before wrapping a hand around Yunho’s flushed red cock, Yunho screaming for permission to cum, hiccuping and crying. You stroke Yunho slowly before stopping to align yourself back into Yunho’s hole, hips snapping against Yunho's pretty thighs, telling the pup to beg louder and then maybe the heavens will hear his prayers.

“Master, please, please,” Yunho begged too fucked out to form complete sentences, tears staining his cheeks. You spank his thigh before leaving toward Yunho, whispering into his ear.

“Cum, you greedy pup.”

Yunho moans at your growling, deep voice, shivering as his body gives out and cums. However you’re not slowing your thrusts once until your own thighs quiver, sinking teeth into Yunho's shoulder when you lean down, cumming. Panting, the two of you fall onto the bed. You don't bother pulling out, cuddling Yunho from behind, letting the older boy warm the strap, kissing the back of Yunho’s neck and reassuring him that he did amazingly well. Love confessions getting lost between kisses and giggles. You finally pull out, smiling as Yunho moans, the boy giving you puppy eyes as he whines from feeling empty. Pressing kisses all over his face, telling him to let you clean up, Yunho pouting and grabbing you by the wrist. You’re a bit shocked by the sudden movement but fall into a bigger shock as Yunho presses your fingers against his now gaping hole, pouting with the biggest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Please, master, keep me full.”

And who would be the biggest idiot to tell this puppy no?

#gothlcsan #smut #kinktober #kpop smut #fiction #ateez smut #ateez x reader #sub yunho #puppy pl4y #ateez fic #ateez smut fic

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 16 Prompt: Library & Curious a/n: This one might be my favorite one I've written yet! It's set at the start of season 2! read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Edde Month series

Eddie’s well aware there are a lot of stupid classes that Hawkins High requires its student body to take. Algebra (there’s no reason for the alphabet and numbers to mix, except in very rare cases, like D20 type cases), Physics (what more do they need to know beyond what goes up, must come down), French (as if anyone from Bumfuck, Indiana could afford to go to France — okay maybe some can, but Eddie’s certainly not one of them that’s for damn sure), goddamn Physical Education (only way he’s running is if someone is chasing him, thank you very much). But the stupidest class of all has to be Study Hall.

An entire class dedicated to doing work for other classes? What kind of idiot dreamed this one up? Instead of letting them out an hour early, some guy, probably in a suit because all bad ideas come from guys in suits, decided to hold them hostage to do more work. It’s ridiculous. Not to mention, it’s one of the few times, outside of lunch, that the grades get to mingle with each other. Sure, lots of studying goes on in between freshmen drooling over seniors and sophomores paying juniors for last year’s test answers.

The only time Eddie actually liked study hall was during his sophomore year when he had it first period and could do all the homework he neglected to do the night before. It’s the only time it actually made sense. And the only time, thus far in his high school career, that Eddie actually turned in more assignments than not.

But now, he’s a senior stuck with study hall as his last class of the day, and he wants to die. Okay, maybe not die die. But die in the sense that he’d rather risk bodily harm escaping the hellscape that is the Hawkins library during 6th-period study hall than sit here. His freedom is so close — nothing but a few windows and a brick wall separating him from the brisk late-October air. Eddie can’t risk it, though. He’s already reached his detention quote for the semester, and if he wants to keep using the drama room for Hellfire meetings, he has to sit in this damn library seat and at least pretend to get some work done.

Which, honestly, isn’t the worst thing in the world. At least it gives him time to work on his latest Hellfire campaign without the prying eyes of Jeff and Gareth or the unnecessary questions from Freak. Sure, he’s supposed to be working on an essay for English Lit, but he doesn’t think Ms. Washington is going to appreciate his take on Frankenstein, so he’ll worry about coming up with a dumbed-down idea another day.

Besides, even focusing on his new campaign is hard enough with the idle chatter going on that the librarian is either pretending not to hear or is too tired of shushing them for.

It’s the usual sort of study hall gossip. Who’s screwing who. What teacher is going to pull a pop quiz tomorrow and become the biggest asshole at Hawkins High. The occasional nervous whispers of the geeks actually studying.

It’s all mindless chatter that drifts into the background when the topic of Tina’s Halloween Bash comes up. That’s the real gossip of the night. Who got the keg, and what other alcohol is being provided? Who is going to be the best dressed? What couple is going to get caught screwing in Tina’s parent’s bed? Are there going to be any good fights or breakups?

Eddie rolls his eyes. Jesus H. Christ, can’t anybody be original around here?

Unfortunately for Eddie, there’s no escaping Tina’s Halloween Bash since he’s been summoned to provide some extra party favors, as the “cool” kids like to call them. Eddie, never one to back down from being a thorn in a “cool” kid’s side, always responds with the same spiel: “Drugs. What you want is drugs, right? Or should I go raid Melvald’s for you?”

Whatever. Money is money, and Eddie can take all the money he can get his grubby hands on if he wants to get out of this shit-hole town when he graduates in June.

Glancing at his watch, he tips his head back in a silent groan of annoyance. Only ten minutes have passed since he slunk into the uncomfortable library seat. Christ, why does time move so slow, sometimes? Eddie tries to focus on his Hellfire notes in front of him, and he’s successful for all of thirty seconds before something catches his attention in the corner of his eye.

Nancy Wheeler and the former Hawkins High King, Steve Harrington, are whispering to each other by the pencil sharpener. He rolls his eyes. Of course, no one else in the library is paying them any mind. And why would they? Harrington fell from grace last year, and Wheeler isn’t exactly the “look at me” type. Still, Eddie finds them morbidly interesting in a way he finds all the tragic heterosexual couples in this stupid small town interesting.

Before Eddie has a chance to fall deeper into his cynical outlook on this stupid Hawkins High couple, Wheeler starts tugging Harrington toward the private study room in the back of the library. It’s a move that shocks Eddie to his core. Don’t get him wrong, he’s heard all bout Harrington’s little trysts in that very room over the years (thank you gossip mill for the very cheap porn), but he never would have assumed Wheeler would be the one tugging him toward it.

It’s that detour from who she’s supposed to be that has Eddie peeling himself off his chair.  At least, that’s what he tells himself as he saunters toward the stack of books in the back of the library closest to the private room. If he hears moaning or anything remotely sounding like they’re hooking up, he promises himself he’ll leave. He’s a freak in many ways, but a creep, he is not.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie can see the two of them in the small room. They’re close but not close enough to be doing anything beyond talking. From the look on her face, doing anything of that sort isn’t even on her mind.

Interesting.

Eddie creeps closer.

“Barbara. It’s like nobody cares. Except her parents. And now they’re selling their house.”

“Nance—“

Wheeler rants about something, but he misses most of it. Only catching the very end.

“It’s destroying them.”

No shit, Eddie thinks with another dramatic eye roll. Of course, losing their only daughter is destroying them. The Hollands are one of the few families around here that actually have a heart. At least they did before Barbara tore it from them by running away. Or so the story goes. Eddie’s always been a bit suspicious of Holland’s disappearance. He knows the runaway type, and a straight-A girl, with a well-off family who loves them like Holland had doesn’t fit the bill.

“I know. Okay? I get it,” Harrington says, glancing away from Wheeler to peer out the window. Eddie grabs the first book on the shelf and buries his face in it. It must fool Steve because he starts talking again. “But listen, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Yeah, we could tell them the truth.”

“This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out that we told any…” He trails off again, and Eddie reaches for another book.

Eyes peering over the pages, Eddie watches as he shuts the blinds before presumably returning to Wheeler. With the blinds shut and their voices even lower, he can no longer hear what they’re talking about. Which is a damn shame because Eddie’s never been more curious about what the disgraced King was about to say than right now. 

+ + +

“M’telling you guys. It was weird,” Eddie says through a mouthful of Doritos.

They’re hanging out in Gareth’s garage. Jeff sits in the old recliner while Gareth stays perched behind his drum kit. Freak is running late, as usual, though Eddie’s not too pressed about it today. Too distracted filling the boys in on what he overheard in the library.

“I don’t know man; it sounds like she was just concerned about her best friend,” Gareth says, lightly tapping his drumsticks on his snare.

“Yeah, those two were inseparable, remember.”

“All the more reason why it’s weird she’s been mopping around lately. Obviously, she knows where Holland is. Or what happened to her.”

“Not this again,” Jeff groans, sinking further into the recliner.

“Yes, this again,” Eddie retorts, throwing Jeff an intense glare. “This town is weird as shit. If the Byers kid can come back from the dead—“

“I thought they proved it wasn’t actually Byers they found in the quarry,” The Freak says, finally joining them in the garage. 

“They did, but Eddie still thinks—“

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, taking a moment to throw a Dorito at all of their heads. “Let me level with you for a second, okay? Yeah, sure, they said that kid wasn’t Byers, but they never said whose kid it was, which is weird. And then right after that, they “find” Holland’s car? It’s too coincidental, man. You know a story isn’t right when it’s too easy.”

“This isn’t one of our campaigns,” Gareth sighs. “Sometimes things really are just accidental coincidences.”

Eddie shakes his head, running his Dorito-stained fingers over his face. “Nah, man, m’not buying it this time. Harrington and Wheeler know what really happened to Holland. And I think they’re responsible for it.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. “You think they made her disappear or something.”

“Maybe Harrington got Holland knocked up, and his family gave her money to leave.”

“See!” Eddie shouts, slapping his hands together as he jumps on the balls of his feet. “Freak gets it! That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“Okay, but if Harrington knocked Wheeler’s best friend up, why would she still be dating him?” Jeff asks.

“And why would they both be hiding her from her parents?” Gareth adds.

Okay, so maybe these are valid questions, but Eddie doesn’t appreciate the doubts they’re throwing at him. “I don’t appreciate you doubting me,” he says plainly. “You’ll see. M’gonna figure this out.”

“Right, just like you figured out that Ms. O’Donnell was actually failing you for a reason and not because she had some vendetta against Wayne for not dating her.”

“Hey. That was a good theory, okay. One I still think is true, by the way.” Turning his back on the boys, Eddie crosses the room and tosses the empty bag of Doritos into the trash bin before heading towards his badly parked van.

“I thought we were practicing!” Gareth shouts after him.

“Just let him go,” Jeff sighs. “He’s impossible to work with when he’s in conspiracy theory mode.”

Eddie flips Jeff off, climbing into the van. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”

+ + +

Eddie’s been at Tina’s party for an entire hour and a half, and there’s still no sign of Harrington or Wheeler. Not that he’s actively searching them out, of course. He’s just had some downtime in between upselling Hagan for the world’s shittiest pot he could get his hands on, and explaining to some cheerleader how Special K hits differently if you snort it. Plus, his supply ran out about ten minutes ago, so he’s just buying time before someone notices him lingering and kicks his ass to the curb.

He’s about to save himself and whatever jock gets thrown his way the trouble, when he spots Harrington and Wheeler arguing by the punch bowl. He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but he has a sneaking suspicion it has less to do with the conversation he heard in the library and more to do with Wheeler’s drunken state. Case in point: the red liquid she just spilled all over her blouse.

Chasing after her, Harrington cuts through the crowd and makes his way toward one of the bathrooms. Eddie waits a minute before following them down the crowded hallway. Thankfully, no one is in line for this bathroom — still too early in the night for the alcohol to have hit their bladders — so he’s first in the unofficial bathroom line. Leaning casually against the wall, Eddie angles his ear closer to the door so he can hear inside.

It takes a minute for his ears to tune out the music and nonsense chatter, but when they do, he can clearly hear Wheeler slurring her words.

“You’re pretending like everything’s okay. You know, like we didn’t… like we didn’t kill Barb.”

Eddie’s never experienced shock before, at least, he doesn’t think he has; the early days of his life are a little hazy around the edges, but that’s the only word he thinks fits what he’s experiencing right now. Part of him wants to shove his ear closer to the door to continue listing, while the other part of him wants to run for the hills, screaming in victory. And if he’s straight with himself, maybe screaming in fear a little, too. Harrington and Wheeler murderers? Who knew?

He knew, that’s who!

He knew there was something shady going on between those two.

Pressing his ear closer, he can hear Wheeler slurring more words, though he’s not exactly sure what she’s saying. Honestly, he doesn’t really care what she’s saying. He’s listening for Harrington’s response right now. What does the mighty King have to say about the bomb she’s just dropped?

“This is bullshit,” she slurs.

“Like we’re in love?” Steve asks.

Huh, clearly, Eddie missed a step or two in his shocked state.  He’s not exactly sure how the conversation strayed from them killing Holland to their, clearly, toxic relationship, but the fact it did is all the proof Eddie needs. If they didn’t kill her, Harrington would have been vehemently denying her claim. And yet, he sounds like a kicked puppy dog right now because she doesn’t love him.

Join the club, Harrington.

The doorknob starts to jiggle, and Eddie bolts. It’s not that he’s afraid about coming face-to-face with the two who apparently killed Holland. It’s just that, well, he needs a minute to think about the information he’s just learned.

+ + +

With Gareth and Freak both busy supervising their siblings around Hawkins and Jeff on candy duty for his family’s house, Eddie has no one to share the good bad news with. RIP Holland and all that, but he’s sitting on some serious dirt right now.

The good part of Eddie’s brain knows he should head straight for the police station. Pull good ole’ Chief Hopper aside and gloat about how he did his job for him. But Eddie’s spent enough time at the stuffy station to know no one is going to believe him especially not against Harrington and Wheeler. He’d have better luck marching in there and turning himself in for her murder. Not that he’s going to do that.

He supposes he could tell Wayne about it, but he doesn’t need to be dragging his uncle into any more of his messes. And since Eddie has no proof beyond overhearing a drunken confession, a mess it’ll surely turn into.

So, he opts for the third option and heads out to Skull Rock to do some thinking.

Maybe Freak is right, and it was some sort of jealous rage brought on by a Holland-Harrington pregnancy. Or maybe Holland saw something she shouldn’t have; the possibilities are endless, and Eddie’s imagination is limitless.

Eventually, he circles back to what he’s supposed to do with this information. Should he turn them in? Maybe not Wheeler; she seems like she’s experienced enough guilt as it and the girl has a bright future or whatever it is the teachers are always talking about. Harrington, though? Harrington, he should turn in, right? I mean, he didn’t even seem phased when Wheeler brought up the murder. Eddie’s watched enough horror movies to know that’s psychopath behavior right there. Besides, it would be nice to see the King behind bars. But then again, he hasn’t been the King in a while. And Harrington’s never really done anything to Eddie beyond standing idle while Hagan threw slurs at him. But he’s not hanging out with Hagan anymore, so maybe he should cut him some slack.

Though they did murder someone.

Jesus H. Christ.

Maybe this is why they say curiosity killed the cat — Eddie’s head is throbbing. He’s about to take another hit from his joint when he hears leaves crunching in the distance.

Shit.

Someone’s coming.

Snubbing out his joint against the rock, Eddie tries his best to make it seem like he’s just here, escaping the busy Halloween night. Which, like, he definitely is, but he can’t be too safe. Especially not when there are two teenage murderers on the loose.

“She thinks m’bullshit? She’s bullshit! Bullshit.”

The voice is unmistakable.

Jesus H. Christ could tonight get any weirder.

Eddie’s only escape is to run deeper into the forest, and he’s not about to do that so he makes himself comfortable on top of Skull Rock like a fucking sitting duck. Searching the pockets of his vest, he yanks out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Neither of which he was looking for. Of course, he left his pocket knife in his van. Stupid. So stupid!

There’s a moment of silence before Harrington emerges from the clearing. The moon is bright above them, making Steve’s tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes glow in the otherwise dark forest.

Maybe he is feeling guilty after all.

“Ah, fuck,” Harrington groans, stumbling to the ground.

Eddie watches as he rolls around for a moment, struggling to find his footing. If Eddie were a mean person, he might let Harrington suffer. But something about his behavior reminds him of a wounded animal, and Eddie’s always had a soft spot for bruised and broken things.

“Shit, Harrington, you okay?” Eddie asks, jumping down.

Eddie’s boots crunch against the leaves, startling Harrington. He manages to pull himself into a seated position and brandishes a near empty beer bottle in Eddie’s direction. “Stay back!”

“Woah, man,” Eddie yelps, hands raised in surrender in front of him. “Don’t kill me.”

“Oh, s’you,” Steve says, slumping against the tree behind him. He tosses the beer bottle aside and runs both his hands over his face. “Jesus. Why does everyone think I would kill s-someone?”

“Uh,” Eddie stutters, glancing around. Now’s his chance to make a break for it. Put those hours of physical education to good use and sprint to the van before Harrington has a chance to make him his next victim. But there’s something in Steve’s sad eyes and dejected voice that makes Eddie stay. “‘Cause you have killed someone before?”

“Man, what the hell are you talking about?” Harrington snaps, fumbling to get out of his jacket. “I’ve n-never killed anyone.”

“So, you didn’t kill Barbara Holland, then?”

“No! Jesus, ‘course not. Barb was… Barb was nice. She was good. Like Nance. Better than Nance, maybe. I don’t know,” Harrington whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Barb she’s… yeah, man, she’s dead. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. N-not in the way you think I did, at least.”

Harrington’s not making a lot of sense, which only spurs Eddie’s curiosity on more. Closing the distance between them, Eddie hops to a squat in front of him. “But you did have something to do with what happened to her?”

“Shit, man,” Harrington groans, words slurring more more. “S’complicated, okay. I can’t talk about it with you or her parents or anyone. Or else they’ll come for me or Nance or our families and then we’ll all be toast like Barb. And that… that thing that came out of the Byers’ wall.”

Complicated? Jesus H. Christ, Eddie’s never heard anything more complicated than the jumble of words that just left Harrington’s mouth. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the realization that they’re alone in the woods talking about something someone doesn’t want Harrington talking about.

“What?” Eddie says more to himself than to Steve. “Harrington, what thing in the Byers wall? You’re not making any sense!”

“The thing. You know, the… the,” Steve hiccups. “The thing we can’t talk ‘bout, else they’ll come for us next.”

Someone will come for him and his family if he reveals what happened to Barb? And the thing in the Byers wall? He wants to ask who would come. What would happen? Is he being blackmailed? There are so many questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, but none of them win the war.

“Harrington, man,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Are you in trouble? Do you, like, need help or something?”

Finally, freeing himself from his jacket, Harrington lifts his head and looks up. There’s a moment where Eddie’s life flashes before his eyes, but then the sad replay of his life is interrupted by Harrington’s hand on his cheek. A dopey-looking grin on his face as he squints up at Eddie.

“You have pretty eyes, M-m-munson. Anyone ever tell you that?” Steve slurs before promptly passing out against the tree.

What the hell has Eddie gotten himself into?

#eddiemonth #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler fic #nancy wheeler ficlet #stancy #stancy ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things season 2 #implied steddie #steddie #dani writes

[kyomaakuma7]

I WISH TO SEE THE WACKY WARNER SIBLINGSS ✨🩷

This is kinda old and I plan on redrawing this soon but here are the Warners!! I absolutely love drawing the warners and am a Yakko Kinnie myself <3

And as someone who works at WarnerBrother Media anytime I get a promotion or something good happens at work I’ll usually draw the Warners cheering with me or being cocky.

Fun Warners fact actually!! (This is long)

I have a terrible sleep schedule and on occasion to help me sleep I’ll search up obscure information, one night in particular I wanted to know their ages. They are much older than anyone originally anticipated!! To be more specific Yakko and Wakko were confirmed to be 29 in 2019! Which makes them 33! Dot on the other hand is about 12!! Isn’t that so cool?

They’d be college graduates (except for dot who would still be in middle school or at least her last year. Although take this with a grain of salt since her wiki hasn’t been updated in much longer than the 2 brothers)

I headcanon her being older though probably in late High school or about freshmen year of college age? Maybe sophomore year? 16-19 to be more specific! For why Dot calls them “kid”, “Dot being close with Fannie Brice- which is likely where she picked up her habit of calling everyone "kid."” Which was stated in the Fandom Wiki under “Creation to Tower”.

They’re ages are a bit hard to place a finger on though, even though these are the confirmed ages by the voice actor of Wakko Warner and Warner Media on occasion they will be referred to a children and were also canonically 13, 13, and 4-5 when they were first made in 1929 on February 30th at 2:43 AM. That would make them logically speaking 94. On the other hand they were still those ages when the show ended and they were locked up. Then were “50 years older” in the reboot. Although it seems time stopped for them or they were locked away from the world.

They would 94, 94, and like 87.

Or 33, 33, and 12.

Or 63, 63 and 56.

ITS A MYSTERY!!! And as someone who works under WarnerBrother’s I STILL HAVE NO CLUE!!

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

re: your steve kisses everybody post, hear me out: Eddie is like, "I know this is new for you..." and Steve goes, "Well, I mean, me and the basketball team used to mess around but it wasn't, like, REAL." and Eddie goes, "...what?" Steve says, "Well like, we would make out and sometimes touch but not in a REAL way." And Eddie gets a little panicked and is like "what? What?? you-- the team-- that's not-- what?" And Steve goes, "I mean, just normal messing around." "That's not normal!" Eddie says and Steve is like "No it totally is." and Eddie goes to Lucas to try and convince Steve and I know one joke is Lucas going um no?? but imho it's funnier if Lucas goes, "I mean yeah, when we were hyped up or having fun, it's not a big deal. I've gone further roleplaying with the Party." Steve gets all smug and Eddie has a breakdown picturing the locker room being one of those girls-at-a-slumber-party-gone-sexual-fantasies

i hadn't considered where the party stood on the 'is making out with your friends a fun bonding activity' debate bc they register as infant children to me, but given that they're entering high school and will likely be beginning to experiment with that it is hilarious to think about where they fall on that

el is 100% team fun bonding activity i think. given the opportunity i think she would give everyone in her friend group a lil smooch bc she loves affection in all its forms and loves to give it to and receive it from the people she cares about

lucas and max are kind of on the fence bc they're together, but i think they are inherently both team fun bonding activity but refrain for each other's sake. until they realise it's fine and then they're congratulating each other on good kisses

dustin is team what the fuck are you talking about. his lips are for suzie and suzie only and the fact that lumax and el are chill about it baffles him

mike is also team what the fuck are you talking about but this is bc a) he has no game and b) the one time he tried to kiss a friend and have it be chill he chose will as his kissee and felt weird about it, so he assumes it's just impossible to kiss someone without feeling weird about it

will is originally team what the fuck are you talking about but that's the repression talking. after he's more comfortable in himself he's like actually yknow what!! yeah!! i can just have a lil fun!! just a sweet lil kiss!!!! and he kisses lucas 100% purely for fun while max and el cheer and mike continues to feel weird

steve and eddie hear about the general consensus towards friend-kissing in the party and after being like ew no it's actually illegal for high school freshmen/ now sophomores to be kissing each other (blatant hypocrisy on steve's part) steve takes this as a monumental win for the friend-kissers

#erica obviously thinks all kissing is weird no matter who does it bc she's like ten #steddie #byler #lumax #honestly i think lucas is probably the group favourite for friend kisses he's probably very sweet about it #el and will kissing him and then turning to max like hey good job with this one and lucas is like why are you congratulating her #im the one doing the good kissing congratulate ME while max stands there looking smug

[dadsbongos]

like batman!

14.8 K words

warnings - stupid teenage boys trying to ruin your life, not super beta read

summary - You and Robin get Kill Bill teenager-style revenge on Jason Carver and his friends after they spread a nasty rumor about you. Sapphic ways ensue (Do Revenge but a little gay).

Pressed and pleated bubblegum skirt that hangs below a baby pink sweater - you opposite the woman of sunshine and fake freckles, your best friend since the first day of sophomore year, Claire Green. She is doused in spring green hues and smells of fresh daisies. Her plush lips glossed and kiss-inspiring, cookie brown natural coils that make all the girls with perms leprechaun in jealousy. She may not be the queen, per se, of high school, but she seems to effortlessly hold down that number two spot.

People usually stare when you two pass, either lust or hatred or admiration, but now it feels different. You’re getting pointed at and giggled over. You as in you - specifically.

“Hey, Claire,” she hums, half listening and half asleep, “Am I crazy? I think everyone’s laughing… at me.”

She yawns and glares when two of your fellow debate team members jab fingers your way, “You’re totally sane. So far.”

The air feels thin when you and Claire wind up at your locker, like your throat is split seconds from completely muscling shut. Cheerleaders and mathletes alike let their eyes stray and suddenly you feel silly.

“Am I overdressed?” you open your locker door and go to work clearing out what remains of your lip glosses and polaroids and trinkets. You can hear the blood pumping in your ears, face boiling hot and hands brushing over the Barbie plains of your outfit, “‘Cuz I totally don’t have anything else to change into - my gym uniform isn’t even clean right now!”

“We were supposed to take those home last week,” Clair raises a brow at you, boredly twisting a dark curl around her finger.

“I forgot,” you pout, throwing your bag into your locker and slamming the door shut, “Seriously, though, this is not how I need junior year ending.”

“You look fine,” Claire shrugs, eyes scrawling over you quickly, “Really, I doubt anything is actually different. Maybe you’re just sobering up from all that princess worship.”

“I am not worshiped,” you lean against the cold metal and fold your arms across your chest, “Why are they staring at me? I hate this.”

Claire tilts her head and frowns, you hate how you can’t tell if she’s being genuine or not, “Alright. Fine,” she grabs you by the elbow with her cherry red polished nails, “Let’s go find Chrissy and hide in the bathroom. Will that make you feel better?”

“Much,” you truly detest the stares.

Freshmen to seniors, men to women, band geeks to varsity jocks, you feel deathbed ill. Like you’re raw meat on the side of the road and they’re maggots.

Before Claire gets so much as an opportunity to run with you, the honey-haired queen bee herself finds you. She is easily the only girl in school who could get away with denim overalls over a white shirt.

Chrissy’s brows are tightly knit, she bats her caked lashes and asks, “Is it true?”

Your expression morphs to match hers, “Is what true?”

She laughs like you’re stupid, “Did you blow Andy in the Enzo’s bathroom last night?”

Claire rears back, hand dropping, like you’re roadkill. Your head etch-a-sketches its way into blank simplicity - for a second there’s ringing silence. Bile climbs up your throat and nestles there in a lump you can’t swallow down. The shine of Chrissy’s pearl earrings catch your stare and it’s so tempting to stay there.

Pretend you didn’t hear her.

Pretend you don’t know her.

Pretend you didn’t go out with Andy last night.

“No way, why would I do that?” your lip wobbles with telltales of nausea and Claire lays a hand to your back, a tender squeeze to your shoulder, “That bathroom is, like, ruled by feces.”

“Well,” Chrissy throws her hands up, “that’s what Andy’s saying happened.”

Shock subsides long enough for brutal rage to crack your prim shell, “Where is he?”

You and Andy weren’t steadies - you thought that could’ve been in the cards eventually, foolishly - last night was your first date and you assumed he was a nice guy. Because he was your friend and he never gave you a reason to think otherwise.

God, what an idiot you’ve proven to be.

“Andy!” he jumps from the shriek of your voice, smugness overtakes him as Chrissy and Claire rush to catch up with your thunderous steps, “What the fuck?”

“Aw, c’mon,” Jason steps forward as he usually does when one of his friends gets cornered, “Mad he spilled your little secret?”

“Excuse you?”

“We all knew,” Jason nudges your arm, “you don’t exactly keep your legs shut, honey bunny.”

You wrench back and Chrissy moves from your side of the courtyard to Andy’s, “But it’s not fucking true! You should all know that!”

“Hey, that’s not how we should speak,” Andy goes to cup your cheek but you shove him back, “Not very ladylike, baby.”

“Do not call me ‘baby’, just set the record straight,” from the corner of your eye, you see Claire shift from behind you to beside Chrissy, “Nothing happened after dinner last night!”

“Nothing?” Andy leans closer, other students pause and circle. It sickens you more than when you had the actual flu over winter break.

You can’t bear the way people look at you, like you’re wicked. A temptress in Molly Ringwald’s clothing. Slamming a palm into Andy’s chest so hard he stumbles, you feel blood broiling in your face as you shout, “Nothing!”

“Not even dessert?”

You saw the musical Chicago with Claire and Chrissy over summer - then again with your mother, and again with Lucas (who sang its criticism and insisted it would be terrible before he even saw it). From that very first viewing, your favorite character was Velma Kelly, who claimed to not even know her husband and sister were dead until she was washing the blood off her hands.

And, similarly, you honestly don’t remember kicking Andy Johnson in the balls so hard he red-faced, neck-veined bawled on the pavement. You happen to wind up in counselor Kelley’s pink-bricked office by chance.

“That story is not going to pass, young lady,” Kelley folds her hands across the laminate surface of her desk, a pointed stare poisoning you from beneath her bangs.

“Well, what am I supposed to say, Ms. Kelley?” your eyes burn with tears and mascara waterfalls have freshly dried against your cheeks, “Obviously, I kicked his kid cauldrons but he totally deserved it! He spread an awful rumor about me, he doesn’t deserve the other cheek!”

Kelley pushes off her desk and settles deep into her wheeled office chair, one hand clutching either armrest, “I really thought you were it. Honestly. Captain of the debate team, excellent GPA, loved by the entire school,” she presses her apple tinted lips thinly, “I’m very disappointed in you.”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Ignore it,” you huff and she drives the knife deeper, “It’s the last day of school, nobody would have remembered it past summer.”

“So what? This is all my fault?”

Kelley shrugs and you want to puke all over her black flats and sea phthalo rug, “I’m sorry, but what do you want me to say?”

Your lips pull impossibly down and a tightness curls in your lungs. Darkness looms, and there’s a terrible sense of evil that drips like tar off the rungs of your ribs. In a broad picture, this is far from the overbearing death sentence you feel brewing, but you can’t look at it from that lens. It’s too fresh, like if someone wedged their thumb into a gunshot wound.

At least Velma got to kill the people that screwed her over.

“You’re being put on a probation period for next year,” she tilts her head, “if you return,” another round of mascara leakage follows her words, “If you return next year, you will not only be stripped of your title as captain of the debate team - you won’t even be on the team. And you’re going to be serving five weeks of Saturday detention,” Kelley stands and moves to stand in front of her desk, both hands supporting her against the surface, “I know you’re a good kid, but I think you should try conducting yourself with a little more… respect.”

Your jaw hangs loose, “Ms. Kelley- “

She puts up a finger and walks around you to the door, shouldering it open and jerking her head towards the hall, “You’ll also be sent home early. Clear out your locker and say goodbye.”

You jelly-leg your way out of Ms. Kelley’s office, desperately clinging to the walls and lockers as you make your way through the winding corridors. Dry heaving, you barely manage to muscle out of the building without puking.

“Hey, Pretty in Pink! You okay?”

It’s no surprise that super senior Munson is still lingering around the grounds, he’s smoking against the hood of his tin can van. Eddie is a perfectly fine person when you’re not intimidated by the Satanic mask and robes he parades himself in. Sure, he reeks of weed and doesn’t brush his hair, but he isn’t a bad person.

“That’s a movie title, not a person, asshole!”

But you’re in no particular mood.

He sits up and off the van hood, meandering over as you hobble past the student parking lot, “You look like you died.”

“Maybe I did, what’s it matter to you?”

He quiets, slowly walking beside you, “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to need a ride home, would you?”

Walking home from Hawkins High would be a stab in the gut while you’re down. And it isn’t like your social standing could possibly fall further on its ass.

That jabs the thumb in your gunshot wound.

You sniffle and feel the tears blot your waterline, Eddie stutters back - his hands fly up in defense as you hiccup a sob. Throat squeezing shut and shoulders scrunching to your chest like the most agonized accordion. You feel childish - highlighted in pink and runny makeup - wailing in front of Eddie Munson.

How could he?

A scream is bubbling beneath the surface and Eddie so kindly guides you to his van, a hand hovering over your shoulder, “Okay, I’ll just assume you’re having a shit day and not full of Munsonphobia.”

A face wash and steaming shower later, you’re sitting in front of the boob tube with America’s darling Jeopardy. Your mother sleeps fitfully upstairs while your father is still bored in his cubicle prison. That terrible something brewing inside you surfaces from your stomach acid when the phone chimes and rattles. You fling a hand out to the side table and raise it, “Hello?”

“Hey!” Claire. You can imagine her twirling the cord around her finger and that brings a sliver of hope. The hope is swallowed by that previous brew, “So.”

“Uh oh,” you curl into the corner of the couch, legs tugging up to your chest and a pillow brought to press your side, “‘So’ isn’t good, what’s ‘so’ mean?”

You hear her suck in a sharp breath, “So, me and Chrissy have been thinking, and we’ve decided that maybe we all, you know, take this summer to maybe process what happened today.”

A bizarre thing for your best friend to say, no?

“What is there to process?” your legs swing down, you lean forward, almost falling nose-first into the carpeted floor, “Claire, you know he’s lying!”

“Yeah, but you assaulted him in the middle of the quad! Girl, you have to know how insane that was,” you’ve been called that a lot.

By the people who know you beneath the sugar and snap peas, at least. But Claire Green is just as bad, if not worse. She once didn’t talk to you for three months because you accidentally spilled beer on her favorite dress - it was miserable.

“You’re kidding!”

She wasn’t.

“Good luck,” you’ve heard her speak sincerely before, and this was not one of those times, “Honestly. I’ll call, okay?”

You squeeze the pillow at your side, so tight that you’re almost worried the stitching will pop between your fingers. Your jaw screws tight, clenching, “Okay.”

The scream crawls up from your throat and splatters against the throw pillow you’re clutching.

Honestly, you’ll take being fired from the Hawkins AMC to save them money if it just meant that you’d stop seeing all the Edvard Munch scream faces of the peers that forsake you. Though, maybe the Starcourt mall isn’t the perfect place to apply if you’re seeking refuge from seeing those peers every day.

“So, uh, what experience do you have?” Robin never once claimed to have the best social skills, but when the fallen princess of your high school stumbles in asking for a job - it just might make you feel a little worse, “Like, with… this?”

You drum your rose pink nails against your knee, “With ice cream parlors specifically? None, but I’ve been doing customer service since I was sixteen.”

Not super long ago, but Robin isn’t going to drill you on when exactly that was.

Robin has always found you charming, since those early days on the playground in Hawkins Elementary to, well, now. With nectarine smiles and cozy aura, you always entranced her whenever you two spoke. Which was never often after elementary school, but still it counts.

“Okay, well,” Robin slides your resume over the backroom table, carefully dodging a mysterious stain that she’s certain is from Steve, “shockingly, we don’t have a ton of people applying so I’ll just,” she gestures wildly, “You’re hired.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she cards her fingers together awkwardly, “It’s also the last weeks of summer, so not a lot of people are looking for work anyway,” she tilts her head suddenly, “Technically I’m not supposed to just tell you you’re hired, so please don’t mention anything to,” she points at the cherry door to the floor room, “him.”

“Of course,” you stand as she does, smoothing out your skirt with a shaky exhale, “I’m honestly just glad you considered me when you saw that it was, well, me that applied.”

“Oh,” Robin blanks, brows raising sharply, “Oh my God, I - you know - never believed that rumor.”

“Sure,” you fold your arms and she feels sick at the thought of making you uncomfortable, “It’s okay, Robin,” she’s shocked you remember her name, “Everybody believed that shit.”

One bonus to come from this entire nightmare is that you now don’t live in fear of swearing when Jason can’t barrage you with what ladylike behavior should be.

“No, really,” Robin gnaws her bottom lip, eyes threading to the clock above your head, “I, too, have a vendetta against those assholes. So, I sort of figured they were lying.”

“What’d they do to you?” you take precious care in not sounding as though whatever they did to her isn’t as bad as what they did to you.

Robin likes that. She’s always liked that about you. Your transparency.

“They bullied me,” she sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, eyes widening, “Like, a lot.”

“Are you serious?” you step forward, arms dropping boneless at your sides, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well I doubt it’s something they went bragging about to their local- “ she stops herself.

“Local what?”

Robin cringes, picking at her nail beds and looking down, “Airhead. Sorry.”

“It’s better than slut,” you lean against the cold marble counter, “Chrissy, too?”

“Technically no, but she never did anything to stop it either,” Robin joins your side, almost brushing arms.

“I wish we could just…” you hold up your hands in a choking motion, fingers flexing tight, “fuck up their lives, you know?”

“Why can’t we?” she turns, but you stare straight ahead.

“What if we get caught?”

Robin moves a little closer, leaning forward and tilting so you two are forced to lock eyes. She grins, “Just don’t be obvious. If we work together, people won’t see it coming. Nobody from school comes here ‘cuz Steve’s shattered ego scares ‘em off, they don’t know we know each other.”

“I dunno…”

Shrugging, Robin stumbles forward and grabs an ‘AHOY’ sailor hat, tossing it your way with all the plastic candor of someone experienced in thankless customer service.

“Then welcome to Scoops Ahoy! you are now a private in our navy,” she grabs a spare uniform and presses it into your chest, “And captain of scrubbing the poop deck. Newbie policy.”

“How long does that last?” you shudder at the thought.

“Two months,” she holds up a finger before you can groan and huff in cheap protest, “Or until Steve forgets - which is usually three weeks.”

“Awesome.”

Robin nods and grabs the silver handle to the door at your side, “Awesome.”

White, rose-patterned dress with lacing at the hems - you walk up to school alone for the first time since ever. Taking the bus to school was a new experience, too - usually, you would ride with Claire, but she failed miserably in her plan of calling over summer. Now, you find yourself searching for her.

There were years wasted that you felt needed repentance for. That or you needed her at your side again, and you refuse to accept that reality.

People’s heads twitch your way as you pass and it sends you right back to that May, what was months ago now feels like minutes prior. Your chest squeezes all over again - how cliche. You will it to stop but then you spot something even worse than a couple of underclassmen leering.

Claire linking hands with Andy, looking at him with bambi eyes as though he’s an angel among the clouds. She wears a blue sundress under a navy sweater. Chrissy stands beside her with Jason, swamped in a candy red dress with her own crimson sweater. You earnestly try not to stare, but coming back to school means business as usual. And business as usual means Jason Carver can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

“Hey!” he sings your name and dread curdles inside the bowl of your gut, “C’mere!”

You tense, both hands strangling one of your bag straps.

“Come on, you,” he waves a hand towards the group, laughing.

Chrissy and Claire glare at him before giving you wide-eyed stares. Patrick shuffles and glances on occasion. Andy doesn’t even look at you.

You don’t know which is the worst.

But Jason won’t shut up, so you make your way into the group that chumbaited you for the sharks, desperately trying not to let your knees buckle.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” Jason tilts his head, “Meant to call.”

“Of course,” you keep your head angled to the side, and for a moment you see Eddie Munson making his third trip into Hawkins High. He sees you, too.

And you’re brought back to that toddler tantrum of junior year’s last day.

“You understand, right?” he loops an arm around Chrissy and Andy matches, even pressing a kiss to the side of Claire’s head, “You’re not mad at my Chris or anything, right?”

Students gather and cling in a tight circle around you and your former friends. You feel hot-faced and watery-eyed all over again, “Jason, please- “

“Well, we just wanna be sure there’s no, you know, bad blood.”

Nobody runs to defend you. God, were these really the people you thought you’d be with forever?

“You did have a whole summer to cool off, after all,” Jason leans forward, smiling as if he’s untouchable. And as far as he and his leeches are concerned, they are untouchable. If you’re caught trying to poke the bear, its guidance counselor mother will rip your head off, “You wouldn’t hold a grudge like that for so long, would you?”

The oozy hellfire of people’s stares schlucks you into a corner. The only corner safe of Jason’s lava dump.

You grit your teeth and puppeteer your lips into something acceptable as a smile, “Of course, not.”

“Of course, not,” he fakes a punch to your shoulder, your breathing heavies and you know that as soon as he finally releases you, you’re going to find a broom closet to scream and cry in. His voice drops into a whisper and Andy’s impish lips curl, “Good girl. Was that so hard?”

How could they?

How could they?

No.

How dare they?

You’re dabbing black tears away before they can drift or smear, you march straight to the band’s practice room - straight to the sound of wind instruments blaring their off-key tune. Your hand slams against the chipped blue paint of the practice door.

Brass handle crashes through the doorstop and you watch Robin jump five feet from her chair, big ocean eyes blown wide at your frame in the doorway.

“Alright,” you sniffle and Robin stands, careful yet shaky hands coming to your arms. You give up the fight of saving your makeup and wipe away the budding tears, “Let’s do it,” she quirks a brow at you, “Let’s do revenge.”

Robin twists, looking around the still, cautious faces of her bandmates before dragging you into the costume closet they share with the theater department.

“What happened?” her mouth opens and closes, not unlike a fish, as she drums up some idea of how to comfort your tattered ego.

“Fucking Jason,” you choke on the lump that never quite faded since May, “He humiliated me,” you roll your eyes and Robin carefully brushes a thumb under your leaky eyes, “What else is new?”

“Do you wanna hug?” she steps back, arms flinging wide at her sides, “I know we aren’t, like, best friends or anything and we just sort of work together, but- “

“No, no, I need this,” you shake out your hands - deep breath in, deep breath out, “I want to be mad right now,” you grab Robin by the arms and pull her close, practically nose to nose, “We are gonna fuck those Madonna mule-fuckers up, Buckley.”

“Woah,” she laughs, a raspy, deep sound, “Chills.”

“Thank you,” releasing Robin, you nod curtly, “Now, with my intel and your unassuming status, we can really pull this off.”

“Who do we go after first?”

You fold your arms, eyes falling to the brown splotched carpet, “You ever play Kung Fu Master?” she shakes her head, bobbed hair shifting with her movements, “Well, as you fight - the opponents get harder.”

“Oh, like Destroyer?”

“Sure,” you swing your backpack around to hang off your chest, pulling out a notebook and flipping to a blank page. Robin watches you scribble, pressing her back to the wall and eyeing the names you plant, “The easiest to take down is Patrick McKinney. He doesn’t really stand out, and he isn’t the strongest guy in Jason’s circus. Generally smart.”

“Is there a but coming?”

“But,” you jab a finger at the notebook.

McKinney - ailurophobia. only showers when everyone else leaves. trusts Lucas

“I’ve babysat Lucas Sinclair since I was thirteen,” you move onto the next boss in your makeshift, live-action game, “he’s our man on the inside on this one.”

Robin almost gasps at the next name down your list, “Cunningham? As in- “

“Chrissy - yeah. She also isn’t very asshole-ish, or vengeful. Also not super strong, her bones are like a baby bird’s, so she honestly won’t be too hard. But we have to make sure there’s something we can hang over her head or else she’ll say something. If she says something,” you point your eraser’s end in Robin’s face, “it’s game over.”

Cunningham - deathly afraid of spiders, baby bird bones

“Who's next?”

You can’t help but to laugh at the twisted fates that led you here, “Claire Green. My former best friend. The biggest backstabber in school with the ability to hold a grudge longer than a life sentence. Not nearly as influential as Chrissy, but she’s incredibly smart. At that point, we need dirt on both Chrissy and Patrick because no matter how hard we try to cover our asses, she’ll know anything weird in her life is my fault.”

Green - hates going out in the rain, Goddamn does she hate getting dirty

“Then Jason?”

“Nope!” you chirp, looking at Robin with a grin that sparkles, “He’s last. Next, we have Andy. A pure monster. Nothing but a stupid, popular monster.”

“Like Dracula?”

You giggle and Robin leans closer into your side, “Like Dracula.”

Johnson - dad is the pastor, hated by Eddie with the fury of 1,000 suns

“Now Jason?”

“Now Jason,” you finish your hurried jots and press the notebook into Robin’s chest, “No known weaknesses other than the fact he’s an arrogant stain on the state of Indiana.”

“Great, so,” Robin tosses up a hand, “how exactly do we get the dirt on Patrick and Chrissy to keep their mouths shut?”

Your gaze drifts from the rosy freckles of her cheeks to a miniskirt and shoulder-padded overcoat. It reminds you of the women you see on the local Hawkins news channel.

Robin’s head turns, “Is it stained? What’s wrong?”

“Do you have a microcassette recorder?”

“No,” she wets her cherried bottom lip, “but I know someone who does.”

Steve Harrington - a casual enjoyer of all sorts of piracy.

Robin never suspected his consistency in low-level crime would pay off.

You look at her through your lashes and something in her chest stutters, “You wanna get some cats with me after school?”

“Clever way of begging for pussy.”

“Ew,” you put up a finger, “never again, Buckley. Never again.”

Under the promise - a solemn swear - of getting the delightfully purring bundles of fur in your arms a good home, Mrs. Burman allowed you and Robin to take five cats off her hands at the shelter. Mrs. Burman was kind when other adults slammed their doors in your face - she heard the rumors, by now everybody had. That didn’t cloud her judgment, though.

Patrick hates nothing more than showering in front of his fellow men - it feels exposing, like stage spotlights directly in the face kind of exposing. And what he hates next to that, is being wrong.

A locker door clinks shut and he clenches the eggshell towel tighter around his waist.

“Hello?”

Silence stills him.

A moment wades by. Another follows.

Patrick clears his way to the bench and hurries through his dressing routine, at least until he notices that his shirt has vanished.

He feels the thrumming of his skin and places an open palm on the cracked metal door to his locker. Something pushes back. Sharp and quick into his hand. Patrick’s knees hit the varnish bench and he stumbles, sliding down the lockers behind him until his ass hits the cruel linoleum. The metal door is batted open and between the slot peeks a furry, muddy white face. Terrifyingly sparkling blue eyes that linger.

A mew cracks and paws pitter out of his locker, gracefully bouncing onto the bench, and right to the edge of the wood. The kitten pops onto his chest and Patrick tilts his face, neck craning as far from his nemesis as possible.

You and Robin lock eyes behind the wall of metal cages. Two cats huddled under either of your arms. Crouching carefully to the scratched linoleum, you both set one of the kittens loose from your holds. They scamper along the checkered lines before nuzzling into the divots of Patrick’s ribs.

Getting Lucas to sneak you both into the boys' locker room after everyone else had left was easy - ice cream bribes for a week easy - but getting him to squeeze catnip into the body wash Patrick used was harder.

“Why’d you lie, Patrick?” Robin murmurs, he doesn’t recognize her voice because of course, he wouldn’t, “Why do you hurt, Patrick?”

You slough another cat onto the patched shine and grin when the man behind the bench whimpers.

Robin holds one cat between her arms, she eyes you wearily and you nod her along. Creeping around the corner of the lockers, Robin cards her fingers through the ginger hair of the cat in her embrace. You imagine she looks powerful.

Like the sun. Or the ocean.

He doesn’t even recognize her face.

Maybe you underexaggerated how much of an asshole Patrick McKinney could be.

But Robin decides that it takes too long to explain their history, so she pins this chance encounter elsewhere.

“Why would you lie?” she tilts her head and the ginger in her arms claws to be let down.

“I didn’t say anything!” Patrick’s eyes are screwed shut, face blighted away from the purring balls of fur on his chest, “I never said a word!”

Robin, as if she can sense your thoughts in her throat, says exactly what you think, “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” she kneels to his side and digs into the pockets of her sunshine yellow shorts, “You want help, Pat?”

He nods helplessly. Breath thick and brows glistening with sweat.

She laughs, honest to God, and presses the cold end of Steve’s microcassette recorder into his throat.

“Alright, sweetpea,” Robin pulls the recorder back and rubs her thumb into the bowl of the red record button, “I’ll get the cats outta here if you can look me in the eyes and admit that you knew that blow job was all a lie.”

“Why do you even care?” he snaps.

“I just hate to see a promising young woman’s life ruined. Now,” Robin holds the cat closer to his glaring face, clicking the recorder alive as he sucks in a breath.

“Andy Johnson was lying through his fucking teeth about the blow job and I knew it! All our friends knew it! Now, get these fucking cats off me, freak!”

Coming to a stand, Robin lays the ginger ripping at her sleeve onto Patrick’s chest as she ends the recording.

“Thanks for cooperating, McKinney!”

You two share a high-five that echoes in the hallway as you storm off.

Following the hitched success, you and Robin collect and split the kittens between Dustin and Eddie. For the low, low price of free - an unbelievable deal. And it’s from the Forest Hills trailer park that you drive Robin home in a candy red 1985 Audi 5000S. Suddenly, there’s a gasp and Robin’s hand slams into the dashboard - you glare and she mouths a spoonful of apologies.

“Just - oh my God - how’re we gonna get the literal queen of Hawkins High?”

You would roll your eyes if you weren’t focused on navigating towards the pink house with red shutters that homes Robin Buckley, “That is so easy.”

One excuse note and one hall pass - both doctored - later, you and Robin are skipping third period to sit, sweaty and deranged, on the metal skeleton of the stagelight crane. Freshmen quarter club rush in Hawkins takes the form of many club and extracurricular leaders selling themselves to the incoming students. Chrissy is next.

Your legs dangle from the open spots in the cage’s hollow, Robin warily eyes the rusted bucket sat between you both - tied to one of the crane’s rungs by thick rope.

“They’re trying to climb up, I’m not kidding - look,” your eyes stick like paste to where the new debate club president advertises himself to the crowd. Robin huffs and leans, continuing to peer inside your bucket, “I honestly can’t even believe I’m doing this. This is crazy. You’re crazy. I don’t- “

“Shut up, Buckley,” you snap a hand over your mouth as soon as the words leave. She looks like you just stabbed her - Brutus to Caesar cruelty, “I’m so sorry. Oh, Robin,” you lay a hand to her shoulder across the bucket, “I didn’t mean that. I’m just- “

“Agitated and irritated?” Robin suggests, rose petal lips tilting up, “Me too. It’s fine, just try to not do that again.”

“Of course,” you realize you’ve held her for too long and pull your hands into your lap, legs swinging, “You know, I was president of debate before… everything.”

“Yeah,” Robin leans her chin onto the rod that reeks of iron, “I think everyone knew,” she sighs through her nose, head quartering to look at you through her lashes, “You know what you didn’t know about me?”

“Of course, I don’t know if I don’t know.”

“Shush,” she bites her bottom lip just to hold her grin from growing too wide, “I was in theater. Freshman year. And first semester sophomore year.”

“No shit?” you chuckle, quiet and restrained, “Well. Something not a lot of people know is that I was in chess.”

“Are you serious?” her jaw drops, neck hanging over the banister, “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way,” you look down, tempted to drop a boot straight onto the new debate president’s head, “I hate him.”

“You two know each other?”

“Not really.”

She giggles, and that makes the wait for Chrissy a little bit better.

Robin’s previous upset returns when Chrissy stands a little more to the left than what was planned. She curses, “dammit”, and digs into her navy shirt’s collar down into her bra. You watch with knitted brows as she pulls out a dime and hangs it above the queen bee’s skull.

Like a pin it dollops right into her scalp. You gasp and she shrugs.

“Ouch!” Chrissy cups the tender spore, stumbling over her shoes into the correct spot.

Before you get to laugh, Higgins begins to search upwards. Hurriedly, you yank your legs through the holes and Robin attempts to duck from his line of sight. Her knee knocks the bucket and nearly sends the tin of eight-legged spindles right onto you. Fumbling hands attempt to catch it, but it only slips. You roll onto your hip, dodging the spiders and latching onto the pail to fling it over the edge of the crane.

Since you’ve known Chrissy Cunningham, she has always made you take care of the little arachnids - big or small, deadly or friendly - they all petrified her to her very bones.

And now that she’s a big bad teenager, she takes initiative to sling a scream and run rather than freezing up.

Robin ducks low as she waddles down the side of the crane, you following after. Higgins studies the metalwork as it rattles and you barely manage to unhook your skirt from a stray spoke before he comes around to the ladder. Your peachy skirt tore near the thigh and Robin hates how she stares, but she can’t bring herself to look away.

Robin takes you by the hand, shaky and sweaty, but you don’t say a word because your palms are just the same. You two slam to a squeaky stop in front of the home ec. room - giggling, you share a look. A look turns into a stare.

“We almost got caught because of your ass!” Robin snickers, fingers trailing to the soft material of your skirt.

“You got down fast enough, racer,” you nudge her arm with yours, “Good job, by the way, it’s as impressive as it is concerning that you can hop ladders.”

“And good job on gathering those spiders,” she leans against the pale popcorn wall and tilts her head to meet her shoulder, “How’d you get them anyway?”

“Munson said he owed me a favor for the cats,” you join her side at the wall. Arm to arm. She feels warm.

Footsteps call your name.

Robin pauses. You’ve been frozen since you caught the first glance of who had walked in.

Chrissy Cunningham stands in the middle of the abandoned hallway, fists balled beneath the hanging material of her varsity jacket. Her chest rises and falls like she’s ran the width of Indiana. She ignores Robin entirely.

“Did you have anything to do with it?”

You should’ve known better than to stop here - there was a bathroom at the end of the hall.

Now she looks at Robin. She recognizes her, unlike Patrick.

“Did you?”

You step up, Robin pushed behind you. You set your face stern and hold Chrissy’s attention, “I poured them.”

You’ve never seen Chrissy so mad. Not once.

But now, she’s earnestly pissed, “Why?!”

“You ruined my fucking life, Christine.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Robin watches you two trade blows like you’re the best of tennis players.

Chrissy continues, her fist flying to her chest, “It isn’t my fault that you got fucked over!”

You feel like you’ve been shot straight through the heart, “It’s all your fault, Chris. You could’ve said something! You have more power here than anybody, you should’ve said something - we were friends!” tears cool the heated skin of your face as they drip, “Maybe if you could get out from under your douchenozzle boyfriend’s thumb, you’d see what a colossal bitch you’ve been.”

With a shriek, Chrissy darts forward and wraps her bird-boned arms around your waist. Your back hits the floor with a thud and you’re winded - Robin tries prying the queen off of you but Chrissy flings an elbow back and it crunches Robin’s nose. Your nose copies when she curls a fist and punches you - blood crawls down your throat and leaks onto your tongue.

Non-vengeful may have been the wrong label then.

You wring her neck in your hands and push against the fill of her throat, stiff-arming until she heaves and pulls away. Before she can gather herself, you get on top and push an arm into her chest to hold her down. Robin kneels at your side reflexively and presses the recorder to Chrissy’s lips.

“Admit it!” you crush harder into her chest when she’s silent, “Admit it, Christine!”

“It doesn’t matter,” she spits, kicking her legs under you, “Nothing will change - you’ll still be fucked because nobody cared that much anyway!”

Robin looks to you, face pinched in concern.

You pick Chrissy up by the collar of her jacket and slam her back into the ground. She thuds, echoing through the halls, “Say it!”

Chrissy gives in because, of course, she does. As peculiar as it is to have her fight you, her rage doesn’t last long because it’s still her. When the Jason Carver influence disappears, it’s just her. And she tearfully submits to your prolonged hatred.

“Andy lied about the blowjob and we all knew it.”

You stand with Robin’s help, spitting a glob of mucus and blood onto the floor, “Clean that. And if you say anything about this, just remember who tackled who.”

Robin deletes the message counselor Kelley leaves detailing her absence as you kick off your shoes at the front door. Following that, you end up on her bathroom counter - Robin standing between your spread legs. She holds a pack of frozen carrot slices to your bruising (but thankfully not broken) nose.

“You were kind of terrifying back there,” she admits, pressing the frostbitten plastic closer to your skin.

“Sorry.”

“No,” Robin chuckles, thick and raspy through soft lips, “It was kinda hot.”

Your lips drop flat. Brows raising hairline high.

“What?”

Robin stands back, arm still extended to hold the carrots in place, “No- not like. You know. Not like- “

“Robin, are you? Are you into girls?”

The carrots pop against the ground, splintering apart from the impact. She steps further back, but you grab her wrist before she can yank it to her side. Robin swallows rough.

“It’s okay, Robin- Robin,” you lean in, “I like girls, too.”

Something difficult to come to terms with when you were younger, but watching Grease is admittedly more fun when you don’t have to lie to yourself and say you’re only watching for John Travolta.

Robin finally releases her tense shoulders and grins, both parts skeptical and good-natured, “No fuckin’ way.”

Slowly, you nod, pulling her back between your legs, “Yes fuckin’ way. Now you’ve got a storm to bandage,” you point straight at the bridge of your nose, “Right here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Robin rolls her eyes and picks up the carrots by her foot. Reaching into the medicine cabinet, she pulls loose a cotton pad and medical tape, “What was your life like? Before… everything.”

You assume she asks to keep your mind off the pain to come, but it feels nice to be asked about yourself. Or, at least, how you’ve changed.

“It was kinda weird,” you close your eyes as Robin closes in, her soft breath caresses your cheeks and something like affection blooms there, “Super weird. It always felt like I had to act like this good girl from some fucked up movie.”

“Mmm, you’re still pretty prissy and pristine.”

“Yeah, but now I can say ‘fuck’ without getting lectured about my lack of ladylike behavior.”

She laughs and you grin at the sound.

“What’re you hoping for?” you imagine she sticks her tongue out when she focuses. You’re scared to make eye contact though, scared of what it might insinuate. What it might lead to.

“I don’t even know,” you admit, “I just want them to know they made a mistake crossing me. I want them to feel like if I could, I’d run them down with my car.”

“Would you?”

You remain silent. Three seconds pass before you teasingly shrug. The two of you giggle and it's something from a romcom, only now there is no John Travolta or Judd Nelson. And maybe you two prefer it this way (you definitely do).

“What’d they do to you?”

Robin’s finger shakes and knocks the tender cartilage of your nose, a million little apologies following soon after.

“Just, you know, the basics,” she forces a laugh, hollow and thin, “making fun because I ramble and say things I shouldn’t and can’t pick up on social cues. I also don’t have a lot of friends - I mean they’re all either acquaintances from band or my coworkers… clearly.”

“What was ‘making fun’?”

“Oh, just - gum in my hair, stealing my homework, dead animals in the locker, dog shit on the lawn.”

“Jesus, how did I not hear about that?”

“Don’t know. They were pure evil.”

Robin pats your knee when she’s finished patching you up. Your eyes flutter to life and she holds out a hand to help you off the bathroom counter’s water-and-soap-scummed surface. Electric shocks tingle from her hand to yours.

She thinks over the time. Your peers aren’t even at lunch yet, “You wanna get ice cream?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

You two don’t hold hands as you get ice cream, but something sugary strings you together. You can feel it. Bubblegum and banana split delights are just the cherry on top.

It’s a nice break before you potentially get your ass kicked again by another former best friend.

The hoods and bonnet and beanies may have been a touch too far, but you’ve always had a taste for the finest flair (and protecting your hair from the bullying of mother nature). And flair kindly distracts you from the way that Claire and Andy are kissing in the frame of her bedroom window. She did always hate going out in the rain.

Robin holds you by the shoulder, stray hairs clinging out from under her beanie to the sides of her face. You find the burn of your eyes there, when you look away from Claire’s familiar bedroom lights. Years spent under those lights - daytime, nighttime, fun, fear, tears, the lights have seen it all. When her parents were home and when they were away, like they are now.

Before Robin can grant you pity and sorrows, you shove the plastic package of toilet paper into her arms, “Let’s fuck this bitch up.”

You rip open seemingly endless flat packets of instant mashed potatoes of varying flavors - cheddar, garlic, garlic cheddar, and Vermont sour cream and chives. With speed and intent, you dump flavored white powders along the paved walkway. Some of it splits into the gassy lawn as Robin throws toilet paper clumps at vacant windows and the surrounding plant life.

Your one-woman mashed potato brigade is stopped on the first lines with one glance into the bedroom window.

Andy is rolling the mint green shirt from Claire's body, exposing a midnight black bra. It takes you back.

How Andy would flirt like you were a delicate princess and he a mere peasant boy. How Claire helped you dress and prep for the date. How Claire picked you up after dinner. How excited Andy seemed when you agreed to go out. How excited you were when your parents finally agreed that you can go out.

How mad he was when you said you didn't want to go any further than hand-holding.

What aches most is Claire's betrayal. You actually, foolishly, thought that maybe the two of you would still be friends after the disaster of May. At least until that call. Her call.

With all the might in your body, the last meaningful hand of instant mash powder is launched right at Claire's bedroom window. Clarity hits you when it splats thickly and they jump.

Hurriedly, you grab Robin by her black long-sleeve and drag her into the rose bushes that separate the Green and Schumer houses. She goes down first, back into mulch - you follow, elbows holding you up. Noses separated by a hair's width.

"Hi," you're quiet. Whispering against her apple lips.

"Hi."

"Shh."

"You- “ you cover her mouth before she can respond.

Claire pops the front door open, holding a silk, plum robe together at the chest. Andy lingers in the background.

You roll off of Robin as she wails at the mess from her doorstep. Robin hates when you move, but she'll accept the lackluster dance party to the tunes of Claire Green's misery. Small wiggles and finger disco, but it makes you both giggle quietly.

As far as either of you can hear, Andy makes no move to step forward and comfort your former best friend.

From within the bushes, Robin claws up mudded dirt and flings it at Claire's expensive robe. You gape and clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from giggling too severely. The both of you crawl away, coming to a stand in the Schumer's vegetable garden backyard.

Lovingly, you swipe mud and dirt from her frayed, peeking hairs and face and she watches you clean your palms on black leggings.

"Sorry we didn't get a confession from her."

"Whatever. I already have two. One straight from the Cunningham herself.”

Robin follows as you begin over the garden fence and back down the sidewalk to your home. Her fingers twist over one another and she feels her mouth run dry.

"Really," she starts, "I'm sorry. About everything."

"It's fine," you slow your pace to be at her side, "I kinda just don't want to think about it."

"You probably should, it isn't healthy to bottle things up."

It isn't healthy to enact revenge either.

"It sucks, what else can I say?"

"Really, I think you should talk about it. It helps, like a lot."

"Why do you care?" you laugh but it's nothing except tense. Accusing.

Robin removes the beanie from her head and wrings it between her lithe hands, "'Cuz I know what it’s like. To get betrayed like that.”

“How would you?”

She pauses and you turn, her brows are furrowed and she looks prepared to yarf up her dinner, "You don’t remember at all?”

You blink once. Twice. Stupidly.

Robin breathes heavy, folding her arms, "We used to be friends, you know? In fifth grade. I told you I liked girls at a sleepover and you just… stopped hanging out with me," her eyes widen in show of her disappointment, "And then got super popular."

"Oh my God," you feel shame and dread tighten at your nerves, "I'm so sorry, Robin, I- I don't know why I did that. And I'm so, so sorry I didn't remember. That's so awful."

"I mean," she's shockingly understanding for someone so wronged, "I forgive you. I forgot what I had for dinner just a few hours ago. But if you're so inclined, you can make it up to me by actually opening up."

"What can I say?" you hug yourself, eyes drifting down, "It's terrible. Every day. People I thought were my best friends just lied and abandoned me for dead."

The tears finally cradle your face and Robin steps forward, taking you carefully in her arms. You latch to her, hands winding tight in her black shirt.

"They all got off free and I lost everything. And I have Saturday detention tomorrow with a teacher that just sleeps the whole time," you sputter a laugh, face warm against Robin’s, "I really, really hate that senior year is looking so shit right now."

"I hope revenge is sweet, at least."

You're silent for a moment. Pondering. You nod, beaming, "It is."

Something rattles in a nearby trash can and Robin pulls from the embrace, though her hand continues to hold yours.

"We should probably go get warm before we catch something. And before whatever is in the garbage bites us- " she's walking, dragging you by the hand, before you even get to reply, "I have a fear of rabies, actually."

"Seriously?"

"Hey, you ever seen Cujo? That shit is real, it takes over your mind."

"Yeah, I'm sure," you squeeze her hand playfully, "Totally not insane."

"It isn't," she stresses, though even that front cracks into sprinkles of laughter, "I'm totally justified, everyone else is just insane."

"Of course."

"For real!"

"Never said I didn't believe you."

The trek home is tedious and rainy, but Robin makes it easier to swallow. Like sugar to cough syrup. Or whatever Mary Poppins said.

Your final Saturday detention and Ms. Click is already head back, open-mouthed, freight train snoring asleep. You almost wish there was a princess, basket case, nerd, criminal, and jock there to save you from such unending boredom. And despite being schlucked into such an unforgivingly plain and exhausting field, you feel better than you did the first time. Maybe it's because this is your last one. Maybe it's because Robin promised to pick you up afterwards.

Either way, you feel better now.

Eased and content, at the very least. Willing to let things go as they are, even if the only two left on your revenge roster are the main villains. It most certainly helps that Robin seems to enjoy being around you as much as you do her.

A knock clouds the glass of Ms. Click’s classroom. Your attention snaps and you see Robin Buckley, the woman of your hour, waving you over excitedly. She points over her shoulder at the bike she’d obviously ridden over. It’s castleton green with purple tassels on either handle - very loved, very mud splattered from years of use. You look at her like she’s insane - as far as you know, she genuinely might be - and she just continues to wave and point to her bike with the basket on it.

You rise from your seat, a glance from Ms. Clink’s stone cold knocked out position to the clock, then take great care in mouthing “theater”.

Robin meets you by the double doors at the side of the school - foolishly left open and unlocked.

“I have to be back at three, you know?”

She hooks a flanneled arm through the crook of your elbow and lugs you forward, toward her bike, “You’ll be safe and in your seat by 2:50, at the latest. And that’s a coveted Buckley Swear,” she puts up three fingers, as though a proudly honored boy scout.

The ride from school to the local replacement diner for Benny’s - Johanna’s (a cheap imitation, though the fries are truly award-worthy) - isn’t more than five minutes. Robin is such a slow biker, taking every handful of seconds to chat at a stop, that it soaks up seven minutes of your brief freedom.

Leather sticks to your skin from the booth, but your company is simply to die for.

“You know, I should’ve known something was off with Andy when all he could say about me was that I was pretty.”

Robin icks, sticking out her tongue at the man’s name, “There’s no way he and his friends are part of the men Dolly Parton’s begging Jolene to spare.”

“I know, I once got told that he cheated on a girl at a party when she was literally in the other room,” rethinking it, your entire time with Andy was a sign that he was everything but a decent guy, not that your rose-colored glasses could see red flags. They always just looked like plain old flags, “But I think I’m better now. I used to be nice, but it wasn’t really me. I changed everything about myself and those assholes were never satisfied.”

Robin grabs your hand, hidden behind the red plastic baskets that your meals were carried out in, “You’re still pretty nice now.”

You don’t know if you believe her, but the way she bats her lashes and simpers from fruity ripe and flower-pink lips just might convince you.

Robin rubs a tender thumb over your knuckles and speaks again, “Wanna know something?” you hum, popping one of Johanna’s to-die-for fries in your mouth, “Beethoven wrote Für Elise for a lady, and he wanted her to be able to play something easy, but impressive,” she snags a bite from her burger, holding up a finger as she chews, “But when he found out she was engaged, he made the other parts so complicated that she’d never be able to play it.”

Taking a sip of cola, you shake your head, “I don’t think that’s true.”

“I don’t either,” she snickers, “but I wanted you to feel better about our revenge agenda.”

“Well, I feel fine, thank you.”

“Here, I’ll tell you three truths about me - as an apology.”

Unnecessary, but you don’t plan on fighting her - not when you like the sound of her thin rasp as she talks.

“I was told to never say food tastes bad, so I would say ‘unlucky’. I once cracked my neck and then my nose started bleeding. Once when I was checking out a couple customers at Family Video, their toddler kept saying ‘fuck’ until they left.”

“Thank you,” you tilt your head, “It sounds like you lead a very interesting life.”

“Hm, yes, I went from outcast dork to protecting the world from a gloop monster and Russians with two of the most popular kids from school and then helping the fallen Hawkins princess get revenge on the new most popular kids in school,” she ponders, stark silent for just a second, “I actually have the most boring life imaginable.”

Nodding, you stand and smooth out your skirt, “Yeah, actually, sounds like it. I’ll be in the bathroom, don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Impossible.”

When you return from the eventful fun of the Johanna’s bathroom run, you spot two towheaded nerds dazzled in varsity jackets. They taint the marron-stained edge of your table, hands in their pockets as they talk down to Robin.

It makes you ill, the way they so easily spit up on the only person at Hawkins High to make you forget about that stupid May of ‘85.

“Why’re you obsessed with her all of the sudden?”

Jason should mind his business, you think.

Robin doesn’t speak. It’d be bizarre if the two were more welcoming.

“We both know what you’re doing,” Jason leans down, hands flat on the table and his gaze piercing through her freckled cheeks, “and I hope you know that the only reason we haven’t done anything is because of Chrissy and Patrick.”

“If you’re trying to scrape the remains of her popularity, you’re pathetic,” Andy tilts his head, she liked it more when you did it, “A reject.”

Robin takes it quiet, eyes straight ahead and hands folded across her lap, because she wants them gone as soon as possible so that you don’t have to deal with either of them. You do see them, though, and you decide to deal with them.

“Get the hell out of here,” you’ve grown since the beginning of the year - something more confrontational, “What do you two think you’re doing? There’s no glory holes here, so you’re both out of luck.”

Andy shucks your shoulder with his as he passes, Jason steps on your shoe, and both glare. Deadly and thin and built with all the spite that one could handle.

You thought you could change your mind, really you did. But you watch the evil wrapped in loose, folding jackets leave through sliding automatic doors, and you feel a wickedness crawl the length of your spine.

They just chose the worst way to get you off their back. Now you’re coming back. Like fucking lice - you’ll come right back with immunity to all their potions and charms.

You grab Robin by the elbow, continuing to glare out the windows. You imagine that they’d be set ablaze if it were possible. Robin shudders under the hatred you radiate.

“We have to come up with something totally fucked up for the ringleaders of Hawkins High,” your faze turns down to Robin, blazing, “We have to ruin their lives.”

She grins lopsided, brows raising, “I’m kinda scared but really interested, is that bad?”

“Not particularly.”

Hawkins Highs opens approximately thirty minutes before seven o'clock, depending on who's working that morning. You and Robin meet at the unlocked double doors five minutes before seven - when the football team arrives for their daily congregation. You're digging into your (dated) bell-bottom pants' pockets while Robin is elbow-deep in her backpack.

She nudges her head towards your hip, "How much did he charge you?”

"Not a cent,” you beam, braggy and bright, “Mr. Munson was more than glad to donate to a worthy cause.”

"Lucky," Robin grumbles, faux glare as she pulls out the neck of a communion wine bottle, "I almost shit myself fifteen times trying to get this stupid wine.”

"Sorry, sorry," you crack open the combination of Andy's locker and slip in the weed and one bottle of communion wine.

Next to that, you plant a bright pink paper slip. A bland secret admirer's note asking him to meet in the AV room as soon as he reads it. He'd be a fool to fall for it, but thankfully - a jester is exactly who you're dealing with.

Robin hands you the second wine bottle, shaky and splashy in her unnerved hands, "Are you sure about this?”

"Nope," you tuck the bottle under your shirt, as if it isn't still entirely obvious, "but it isn’t like I can find another way to ensure this asshole never comes back.”

Robin bites down her protests, fiddling with the edge of her frayed sleeve. And she holds those protests down as Andy finds his way into the AV room at 7:08 AM. She slides the lock shut behind him and hurries down the echoing hall towards the office.

The projector is flickering, but most certainly on. Andy can't sense it nor see it, but you're ducking behind the control panel. A single bottle of red clutched tight between your fingers.

Bumbling, you play the film reel loaded into the projector and hold your breath as your voice comes down from the speakers.

"Are you seriously recording this?"

"It's something to commemorate, baby."

A shaky, grainy image of you and Andy, side by side on one of his father’s pews, lights the projector. The camera flips and Claire’s beaming face comes alive. That night was the night that you three promised to stay together forever, seeing each other every break during college.

“I’ll be too busy being a star football player,” Andy insisted.

Claire joked that you two will have to frame him for steroid possession. You called her intense. She called you a sourpuss.

“Oh,” Andy laughs in real time with his video counterpart, “you’re pathetic.”

You feel it.

“Okay, you know what?” he creeps past the control panel you hide under, a hand thunking to the door handle and he pulls, “I’m going.”

His body leans fully, but the door doesn’t budge - he laughs, twisted and sick.

“Let me out,” when you fail to respond, he bangs on the door and you think the walls reverberate, “Let me out! You can’t keep me in here!”

You lay the bottle of communion wine and roll it down the gentle slope to the doorway. The glass smooths loudly along the floor and Andy sweats at the sound, he jumps shamefully when it bumps his sneaker.

Nervously, you peek up and flounder for the volume knob, turning it higher.

“You’re a bitch, and a fuckin’ coward!”

You crank the volume even higher.

“I could never actually ditch you. Either of you.”

His own words scathe him. Betray his wickedness for the both of you to pick apart like vultures to decay. He inspects the back rows for a body, closer and louder, heavier and thicker.

Before Andy gets the satisfaction of finding you, you pop out from beneath the panel - twisting the volume knob even higher. He turns on his planted feat and you watch his nostrils flare, face red and full of hate, “You fucking bitch!”

He charges forward and you refuse to run. Not when his rage was so accounted for.

Robin, meanwhile, puts on her best acting face from amateur freshman and (half of) sophomore year theater in countering to Ms. Kelley’s promise that if she was lying about the contraband in Andy’s locker - she’d be suspended. She twiddles her fingers and shakes her head, “No, I’m not exactly nervous about that…”

Higgins props open Andy’s locker and Robin mocks a gasp as a bottle of wine and a baggie of Eddie’s cream of the illegal crop are visibly at the forefront.

Kelley side eyes Robin, “Why are you nervous then?”

“Well, he was meeting someone in the AV room. That… girl that kicked him in the balls last year? She wanted to meet him, to apologize I think.”

Higgins and Kelley share a glance. Long enough for the social fear of teenagers and weed to lead their conclusions somewhere dark. Not that Robin exactly thinks Andy needed help with being seen as a dickhead.

You barely manage to dodge the wine bottle he throws, it smashes against the control panel and grape nectar rolls down the plastic lining until it stains the carpet. Glass rains near your feet and while you’re focused on not stepping on any, Andy grabs you by the shoulders.

His grip is tight, you think he might leave a bruise, “Why can’t you let this go, you fucking psycho? You gonna terrorize for the rest of high school? College? That’s pathetic.”

It’s hard to believe you were ever into him, “You people ruined my fucking life! Would you leave it alone if someone did that to you?!”

He tuts and grabs you by the collar, lifting you just slightly, “Guess I don’t have to find out, do I, whore?”

You were called that a lot. Men. Women. Young. Old. Familiar. Stranger. All because of a lie. All because of him.

Distant footsteps hang from the hallway and the door’s lock slicks back just as your video ends. Then more steps echo from behind the door, hot in their approach and Robin’s faint voice pipes up.

You tilt your head in faux innocence, “Don’t you?”

“What?”

You scream, something horrified and wretched, and the door swings open with a fury. Your throat burns when you’re done.

Kelley and Higgins smell the wine first. Then see the sparkling remains of a bottle splattered across the floor. Then the way his fingers are coiled into the collar of your shirt.

“Mr. Johnson,” Kelly snaps and he drops you, you fall helplessly, cutting your palm on the glass, “My office. Now!”

Higgins rushes to you, his smooth hands assisting you up as Robin carefully steps up from the background.

“I can take her to nurse, principal Higgins,” you find yourself more comfortable leaning on her tall frame, “While you deal with, you know- “ she eyes the doorway, where Andy is screaming about a setup and lies.

You two begin towards the nurse’s office and Robin doesn’t mention that you got blood on the side of her white shirt. She also doesn’t mention that you don’t technically have to be using her as support to walk, but that’s also for her own self-interest.

“That was equal parts psycho and stupid,” Robin looks at you, a brow raised, “You know that, right?”

“Of course,” you grin back, “It was worth it though. He’s gone and his dad is in hot water, at least for a bit.”

“You’re so dumb sometimes,” you two pause in the hall.

An electricity runs there. Right between you. It makes you screw your arms under hers, and she squeezes you just as tight. And it's as you hug Robin in that barren hallway, you remember, “Oh, shit, I left the video in there.”

“What’re you gonna do with it?” she pulls back, arms loose and limply thrown over your shoulders.

Her lips are tantalizing. That same apple - that same tree - that same snake.

“I dunno…” you shrug, hands roaming down to settle on her hips, “Wanna burn it with me?”

She ponders and you like how she likes your hands on her body, “Yeah. Actually. I’ve never burned film before.”

“It’s nothing big.”

“Sounds exciting, though.”

“Someone could really get hurt,” Jason gestures down to your bandaged hand and you cup it defensively to your chest.

You glare and you feel like hell itself clutches you by the cheeks as he talks, “Jason, you turned me into a social pariah just because you could, if I let you go before actually beating the shit out of you - consider it lucky.”

“You’re a psycho,” he looks around the band practice room that he dragged you into, “And this place smells like cat piss.”

“‘84 accident,” you deadpan, pushing him back by the chest when he attempts to strike past you to the door, “Wait.”

And now you’re pacing nervously across the fuzzy pink rug in front of Robin’s twin-sized mattress, freshly finished with your retelling of such a tale.

“I know what I want done, but I don’t know how we do it,” you pause before her.

“Well, what do you want done?” Robin moves to the edge of her bed, she looks at you like you’ve hung the moon - like you’re worthy of something, “I’ll do it. Trust me.”

“My hero,” you sit on her bed, the way you land making you straddle one of her thighs. You wrap your arms around her neck, “What would I ever do without you?”

“Be without your totally awesome revenge, probably.”

“Definitely,” you giggle and she returns the gesture in kind, “I want to record Jason admitting to everything. He’s meeting me at the Hawkins Elementary playground at 10 PM.”

“Let’s start simple,” Robin’s hands fall to your hips now, and maybe if you were brave you’d admit to yourselves what that meant, “We need a camera.”

You get a camera from Jonathan Byers.

“My mom’s old boyfriend left that, so…” he waves a hand about, looking more exhausted than pleased at the conversation, “Why do you guys need it anyway?”

You and Robin share a pointed look, her frosty blue fingertips tip-tap along the side of the camera patiently. You take a deep breath and fold your arms, “We need it to film Jason Carver admitting that he knew Andy was lying about the whole Enzo’s bathroom blowjob thing and that he turned my old friends against me. Then we’re gonna play it at homecoming tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan nods sluggishly, hands burrowing into his pockets, “Just, uh, don’t break it.”

And the filming location is scoped by the both of you later - a very bizarre and peculiar experience, being two teenagers perusing the local elementary school playground for a good filming angle.

Robin finishes her rig from behind the tire swing tree beside the real swing set, peering through the viewfinder to ensure that she has a full scene of you and, theoretically, where Jason would be.

“What now?” she steps out from behind the tree, all limb and lank and affection.

“Now,” you grab the camera and delicately hold it, “we buy Hawkins home pride for homecoming tomorrow.”

“Ugh, gross.”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes good-naturedly and grab her by the hand, entwining your fingers, “think of it as a costume change before the big villain exposition.”

Undershirts hung over either arm, you wade through the skirts’ section with Robin. Two Hawkins High jerseys with Jason Carver’s number over the chest in bold white that you’d forgotten to toss out.

Robin ‘ooh’s and plucks a hanger from the section excitedly, shoving it right before your face. It’s pleated, green with white lining at the bottom - she then holds it beside the shorts she’d picked up for herself, split down the middle, half orange and half green.

“I think this is the final piece,” she nods assuredly, “This is perfect.”

“We still need to try everything on,” you grin as she groans and tucks the skirt into your grasp, “But yes, this is perfect.”

You step out of your respective dressing rooms in tandem, you clutch the strawberry fabrics between both hands and Robin feels her heart jump to her throat. You’ve got a green scrunchie around your wrist and cheesy orange sunglasses on your head - mirroring her own green headband.

Robin looks both ways down the hall and steps into the gray carpet wonderland that separates your rooms. She sighs ragged, pulling the straps of her white tank top closer to her neck, “I feel silly.”

“Me too,” you nod and drop the curtains as you come toe-to-toe with Robin, “but it’s dramatic as hell,” you reach up and remove the emerald headband, shaking it free from clinging, sun-bleached hairs. Pulling out her bangs, you settle the band behind her hanging strands, “You also look hot, so bonus.”

“Yeah, bonus,” she watches your lips, mostly.

It feels safe with you. Not in the way it usually feels safe with people she knows, but it feels like if she were to jump off a cliff then you would put a mega marshmallow bed for her to land on. Maybe it’s because she knows you like girls, too. Maybe it’s because you two are friends now, like officially. Maybe you’ve bewitched her.

“You look hot, too,” she swallows, dry and uneasy.

“Yeah?” you tease, stepping back and pulling loosely on the scrunchie snug around your wrist.

“God,” she plays off any desperation as a laugh, “yes.”

Dear God, yes. And it seems to be all she can think about when you’re driving her home in your candied Audi. Robin has had crushes before - Tammy Thompson and Vickie McNulty, to name a few tangible ones (Brooke Shields, Daryl Hannah, and Lisa Bonet, to name a few intangible ones). But they’ve never consumed her so thoroughly before.

She’s never smelt their perfume on her clothes after school and almost screamed (lovingly). She’s also never had cheesy inner monologues about how beautiful and fun they were.

But you’re just that incredible, she supposes.

She understands, now, your thought process in fifth grade. Or at least, she can get an idea. You must’ve been scared - for God’s sake it was only 1978 and David Bowie hadn’t exactly turned tides against bigotry. And now you’ve apologized. She feels better.

She circles back.

She’s had crushes that didn’t swallow her how you do. Does she…?

Honestly, it would be the least surprising thing to happen in her life so far.

Though, that realization makes her startle at the way you glance over, “What’re you staring at, huh, Buckley?”

“Nothing,” her head snaps forward, tossing back into the passenger side rest.

“Anything you wanna tell me? You look sick.”

“No,” she drags the vowels and you don’t believe her for a second.

But as soon as you’ve dropped her off at her house, you realize you can’t wait to see her again. In the way you used to impatiently wait to meet with Andy, but Robin would never do what he did. Robin is kind and trustworthy and you might just like her.

You most definitely do. And that’s a pill you have to swallow dry so that you can hurry home to prepare for ten o’clock that night.

At ten o’clock that night, you rock gently on the Hawkins Elementary swingset in the pink and white pinstriped dress you wore to Enzo’s on that spring date with the man to ruin your high school reputation.

“Could you be any more dramatic?” Jason has his hands buried in the pockets of his varsity jacket. A powerplay of his own, not that he’d ever admit it.

Looking up in an act of thinking, you hum before sneering, “This is way more fun.”

He rolls his eyes at you, “Anybody follow you here?”

“Not a soul.”

“You’re losing your mind with all this crazy revenge shit you’ve been doing,” he moves closer and you have to stand from the swingset to maintain a semblance of power balance.

“This isn’t even half of it,” you wring your fingers tighter around the iron-scented chains, “You people wanted an outcast, but I don’t think you realized what little an outcast has to lose. Unless, you know, you can go ahead and admit it now.”

“Fine,” he swings his hands out at his sides, “Everyone in the group knew Andy was lying through his teeth. Are you happy?”

“No,” you release the swingset chains and step closer to him, your shoes scuffing his white soles, “How did you convince my friends to turn against me?”

“I didn’t do anything,” he shrugs, “You kicked Andy in the balls and I made them matter,” he laughs and you want nothing more than to throttle him where he stands, “When you’ve got the entire pigsty, parasite, Podunk population of Hawkins High eating out of your palm - people don’t tend to turn their backs on you,” he reaches up and ghosts his fingertips along your cheek, “Unlike the whore that publicly assaulted Hawkins’ golden boy’s best friend.”

You feel the back of your throat burn.

Jason bends down and you want to jump away as his jacket brushes your legs, he picks up the bag at your feet.

“If I play these, and they’re fakes, you’re dead,” he points down the barrel of your face. You feel sick, like he’s stabbing you straight through the throat, “If you tell anybody about this, you’re dead,” he laughs and finally steps back, “Or, hey, maybe I’ll just tell everyone you tried humping my leg like a dog in heat.”

Jason looks into the bag and grins when he spots two cassette tapes. You roll your eyes at his jovial behavior.

He snaps, “Don’t roll your eyes at me, whore.”

Hawkins’ golden boy finally retreats back to his 1984 Jeep Cherokee and you wait until the thing is off property before beaming and turning to the tree with the tire swing.

“Did you get it?”

Robin pops out from behind and gives you a thumbs-up as she wrangles the camera down from its spot in the branches.

Honestly, it’s like the meathead never heard of making tape copies.

The next day, you stroll into Hawkins High for the pep rally with your film reel and confession tapes - decked in the tacky costumes you bought and tried on together. You feel pride and excitement bloom as Robin brushes through the tiled hallways with you at her side. You part at the AV room, with Robin going to jingle the projector to the gym while you sneak into the front office.

“Hey,” she catches you by the wrist, her lips gently tipping up at the sight of you.

“Hey,” you slide your hand up to entwine your fingers with hers, “Everything okay?”

Robin takes a deep breath, “I just…” she looks down and you tilt her head up by the chin, “Even if none of this goes well, I want you to know that I’ve had a lot of fun,” she thinks your lips would taste like the fruity lip balm you’re always wearing, “And I still wanna… be friends, when this is all over.”

Something about the way she hesitates in the title of friends elates you. But then again, being limited to that title burns. And you’ve turned into someone who isn’t satisfied keeping her thoughts to herself.

“Friends?”

Robin shrugs, “Yeah.”

“No more?” you realize the question as Robin gasps, you slap a hand over your mouth, “Sorry!”

“No, more,” she grabs the hand over your mouth and holds that one, too, “Yeah. More,” that nervous little raspy giggle you love peeks through and another wave of excitement gleans below your ribs, “More is good.”

You two share school girlish giggle and squeeze hands and you check both ends of the hallway for any sign of life. When you find none, you lean forward and give her a taste of the fruity lip balm she can always smell from the passenger seat of your car.

The apple is sweet and slightly chapped, and you think you love it.

There’s a twisted hesitance as you pull apart, you grin at her heavy blush and brush her hair back behind her gem-studded ear.

Kissing her cheek, you pull away slowly and it aches to leave her behind.

“Good luck, Buck,” she cringes, nose wrinkling and openly gagging, and you only laugh at her disgust, “Don’t get caught!”

You kneel at the announcement office door, your decade-old library card slithering between the crack in the door. It pops open and you sneak inside, hooking your cassette into the player for the PA system just as the walkie-talkie stuffing into the waistband of your skirt buzzes.

Muffled whispers attempt to blurt through your jersey.

You slip the walkie-talkie up to your ear, catching the tail end of Lucas’ whispering.

A click of the button and you’re speaking into the walkie, “Hey, sweet Sinclair, I’m gonna need you to repeat that.”

This time you catch the end of a thick sigh before he whispers, “Everyone’s in the auditorium and Jason is about to make his speech - so whatever you’ve got planned, you better hurry up.”

“Got it, captain, hang tight,” you flip to the channel you and Robin settled upon before school, “Did you get the scoop from Lucas?”

“Sure did. Projector’s all set up, too, and I’m under the bleachers.”

“Great,” you slip the walkie-talkie back into your skirt waistband and giggly press down on the siren engine red play button on the PA system.

And Patrick McKinney’s voice echoes through the hallways.

Robin pokes her face into the bleachers’ gap, she sees Patrick shy from the attention. Shrugging off his varsity jacket and bringing it up and over his head as he ducks down. Higgins runs off the stage and Kelley attempts calling to the masses through a microphone - it fails. And fails harder when the voice of Chrissy Cunningham autoplays next.

Chrissy leans down, whispering - hissing, rather - for her friends to hide her.

Meanwhile, at the office, you can hear heavy footsteps from the hall and manage to creep under the desk just as Higgins kicks in the door. He swiftly cuts around the desk and you squeeze under the desk’s high gap as the tape cuts off on its own. He rips out the cassette and turns it for a label or name while you crawl away and out the door.

Robin clicks on the film projector from between the bleacher slats and she watches Jason look back from beside Kelley when his own voice rings in the auditorium.

He sees himself, and you, by the Hawkins Elementary swingset.

“What the fuck?”

Kelley jaw drops at his language and smacks him on the arm.

There’s a collective shock as Jason bites himself in the ass.

“When you’ve got the entire pigsty, parasite, Podunk population of Hawkins High eating out of your palm - people don’t tend to turn their backs on you. Unlike the whore that publicly assaulted Hawkins’ golden boy’s best friend.”

Kelley stumbles away, her brown heels clicking on the stage as she tries to distance herself from the king being beheaded.

You shove the double doors to the auditorium open and heads swivel to where you stand as Jason Carver from the projection gets close to your face, clutching a bag in hand, and spits a, “Don’t roll your eyes at me, whore,” after threatening your life.

Eyes turn back to Jason. Judgment. Curiosity. Confliction. It can’t be real, but they’ve seen it before their eyes. Like rubbernecking a car accident. Your downfall, meticulously crafted and carried out and now you finally get to witness it being repaid in full. Chrissy and Patrick huddle into their own covers as people slowly turn against them. Claire shrinks into herself and ignores the sweat that begins along the back of her neck as cheerleaders and peers stare.

Jason is frozen, eyes piercing where his own damnation featured for the entire present population of Hawkins High. Including counselor Kelley.

She grabs him by the arm with the vice grip of an anaconda, dragging him back and behind the velvet curtains - all the way down the stage stairs that you and Robin sprawled down after pouring spiders on his girlfriend. You go to climb the bleachers, stunned when a hand grabs you by the arm.

A girl you don’t quite recognize with chili red glasses grins and holds you up as you climb the middle stairs. A boy with braces helps on your other side.

Freshmen to seniors, men to women, band geeks to varsity jocks, you are assisted up the bleachers until you’re finally plopped onto the cold, smooth, cornstarch-scented seat beside Lucas Sinclair. He claps you on the back, beaming with all the relief of a boy who’s watched G.I Joe escape yet another perilous situation.

“Congratulations on a good show.”

You shrug off the praise, “Oh, you know me. A natural.”

Higgins wanders in, then, and beckons you down. Cheerleaders and mathletes assist you down and ensure you don’t stumble between the bleacher gaps. You feel a flick to your ankle and glance back in time to see Robin peeking there, she smiles lopsidedly and waves. You wave back as Higgins’ turns away to lead you to his office.

Higgins sits stern across from you, hands folded as Kelley’s were on that last day of junior year.

“There’s no evidence I violated school policy because why would I?” you laugh humorlessly, “I mean, why would I go out of my way to surround myself with the people that tried ruining my life?”

He looks away from you. You both know you’re lying through your teeth. Why the hell would you be in that video if you had nothing to do with the scheme? And where would you have been during the pep rally? And who else would be so invested in your Luciferian style fall from grace to act entirely on their own?

But can he bring himself to truly do anything now? When you’ve proven the space between the horse’s teeth is full of lies?

Higgins’ chocolate drop eyes abandon you in favor of the records file at his side.

“Alright,” he sighs, tightens his tie, and leans back until his office chair creaks, “you’re free to go, but we’re going to keep a close eye on you, young lady.”

You bright and clasp both hands in your lap, spine shooting straight, “I’d expect nothing less from Hawkins’ finest, Mr. Higgins.”

Once again, both of you know that you’re lying through your teeth.

But so is he.

“Off the record,” he leans forward and the chair groans again, “did you do it?”

Higgins believes himself to be the kindly, understanding principal, but you feel jaded. Wiser and older, even if you’ve only matured by a fraction.

“Nope!”

“So, who did?” whether this interaction is truly as off the books as he claims, he’s definitely trying to goad you into an answer.

“Who knows?” you sigh, histrionic, as your back hits the chair’s cushion, “Maybe some… super vigilante that thought some justice was needed.”

“What? Like Batman?”

You think for a moment. You aren’t quite as comically rich, nor are you so brooding, and perhaps you’re stroking your own ego now - but there is a sense of just performance. Like you’ve done something right.

“Yeah. Like Batman.”

Robin waits outside for you. She’s leaned against the wall and it brightens the dim space. You don’t even notice the others until she nudges her head to the side and says, “You got a couple visitors.”

Chrissy, Claire, and Patrick are standing ashamed and knobby-kneed.

Claire steps forward, one hand nervously twirling a dark curl around her finger, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Onyx eyes that jade like honey pots in sunshine water and wilt, her cheeks wet with tears and Patrick nods, laying a hand on her shoulder. He wets his lips and sighs like he was somehow hurt.

Truly hurt.

“We just got caught up in Jason and his need for us to play specific parts. You… you know how it is.”

You most assuredly do.

You wish Robin wasn’t shying away from you. You hate that it's their fault.

Chrissy clinks her fingernails together, “You should come back. We miss you.”

“We all miss you,” and you know Claire isn’t lying as she says that.

You know none of them are, but you look at Robin as she nervously gnaws her bottom lip. They wronged her deeply as they did you - even if you could forgive them for yourself, you can’t find it within you to ignore how they hurt her. And again, you can’t actually feel yourself ready - or prepared - to forgive and forget for your own sake.

“Nah,” you smile as you grab Robin by the hand and turn towards the side doors of the school.

Chrissy and Claire go to protest. You can hear Patrick’s sneakers squeak against the dirt-smeared corridor floor. And you pay them no mind as you commit to skipping the rest of the school day with (you hope) your new girlfriend.

“Higgins inadvertently called us Batman,” you unlock your car and open the door for Robin as she ducks in.

She hums, nodding, as you climb into the driver’s seat, “If you’re Batman can I be Catwoman?”

“Don’t they fight each other?”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna be that Robin. He’s like twelve.”

“Then let’s just both be Batman,” you wait until you’ve both clipped in your seatbelts before pulling out of the student parking lot.

Robin settles her head back against the passenger seat rest, rolling until her ear hits the cushion and she stares as you steer - utterly helpless and enamored, “Do you think we’ll ever have to do this again?”

“Hm,” you make it out of the Hawkins High gate and roll down the street, entirely calmer than when you had to get driven home by Eddie Munson, “maybe a first date is in order first. Then maybe we can do more revenge. Be women of the people and all that shit.”

“I’d love to,” Robin laces her hands together and you notice, holding a hand out over the center console for her to hold, “I’m not happy you got outcasted and lied about, but I am glad that we met.”

“Me too, Rob,” you pause completely at a stop sign and lean across the gap between you two to lay another precious kiss to her lips - she eagerly returns the affection, “Now, I don’t believe we ever got to properly finish our meal at Johanna’s. And I’m simply starving.”

Her nose crinkles as she laughs and you don’t know if you could ever get enough of the sight or sound or feeling of her. She nods and pecks your lips again, “I could eat.”

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley oneshot #robin buckley #robin x reader #robin stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley fic #robin.🍍

[9r7g5h]

The Downside of Trusting a Dumbass

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Boku no Hero Academia 

Rating: T

Genre: Humor/Partial Soc Med AU

Summary: He wasn’t actually stupid.

In the height of responsibility and intelligence, he even took one of the free condoms that had been scattered across the board, making sure to put the tiny pushpin back in place once he had detached the condom from the cork.

Words: 1,794

Denki knew that, sometimes, he was impulsive, and that impulsiveness could be considered stupidity.

He wasn’t actually stupid. He’d gotten into the same college as everyone else, and had enough scholarships that he would graduate without too much debt in the end. Just, you know, sometimes he acted without fully thinking things through, because he had the thoughts and wanted to see what would happen on the other side. Like the time when he threw bath bombs into the reflection pool on campus to see if they would actually dissolve despite it only be lukewarm. Or when he ordered twenty-seven pizzas to that Greek party he wasn’t actually going to, because he knew Kirishima was going to be there and bros made sure bros were fed, but forgot to prepay or tell anyone. Or when he accidently blew out the electricity to the dorms because he wanted to see what would happen when he connected three generators together and hooked them up while the power was still on.

He was just a man of science, really, just people didn’t appreciate his scientific explorations. Especially his roommates, though he could kind of see why. If the three of them weren’t involved with his ideas (which Bakugou rarely was, though Sero and Kirishima more often than not were), they were cleaning up after him, so he could see why that was annoying. But that didn’t mean he was stupid.

Right now, for example. The student union had been putting on a whole thing about safe sex for the last two weeks, and he was actually standing there reading the board! Taking pictures and everything, even putting down the numbers listed in his phone, just in case. He wasn’t dating anyone, no, but it was still good information to have for whenever he got some future mythical partner. He'd been flirting a lot with that Shinso guy who worked at the library, so who knows!

In the height of responsibility and intelligence, he even took one of the free condoms that had been scattered across the board, making sure to put the tiny pushpin back in place once he had detached the condom from the cork. Someone was obviously keeping the board stocked as students took what they needed, and it would just be rude to make their job harder. Double checking the expiration date, Denki cheerfully slid the condom into his wallet before leaving for his next class, whistling quietly to himself as he preened over this little reminder of just how smart he was.

*~*

Living in a quad had its pros and cons.

Pros, it was a 24/7 sleepover with three of his favorite people, full of fun, laughter, late night conversations about the nature of the universe, good food, and only a few death threats each day. If he needed help on any of his school work, it was easy to just roll over in bed and stare at Katsuki until he gave in and answered whatever question he had, meaning his grades stayed high without him having to pull out any of his perfect hair (though he did still go to the library. Had to see that sleep deprived cutie). Game nights were easy to schedule; just make sure all four of them were there, grab something, and verbally challenge their manhoods. He never slept through his morning classes, and had he mentioned the food? The school cafeteria food was fine, and the number of fast food restaurants on campus were great, but all three of his roomies were great cooks, meaning Denki had quickly put on that freshmen, sophomore, and junior 45.

Cons? Whenever one of his friends brought someone home the rest of them were banished to one of the dorm study rooms, meaning every single Thursday night saw him, Kirishima, and Sero waiting until Katsuki let them come back home. Because his weekly date nights with Izuku were sacred, he would kill them if they came back early, and none of them wanted to be the reason the green-haired sunshine bunny boy teared up at a date ending early.

That had happened exactly once, and still haunted them.

So it was strange when all, halfway through a round of Mario Kart and still hours away from Katsuki letting them come home, all three of their phones started buzzing like crazy.

Denki quickly stood, patting his pockets to check, ignoring the looks Kirishima and Sero were giving him. This was his time. His moment. He’d forgotten his wallet.

Denki flopped back onto the couch, crossing his arms behind his head, more than pleased with himself. He had provided an indispensable service today, had been there for one of his best bros, and was getting pancakes tomorrow for it. Denki was more than pleased.

A feeling that just increased when they were eventually allowed back into the dorm, the three of them ignoring the extra, softly snoring lump in Katsuki’s bed. Not that they could have looked even if they wanted to, his protective mastiff of a boyfriend eyeing them all carefully to make sure none of them did more than glance in their direction, and even that got bared teeth and a scowl that promised death. Though Katsuki did, not as reluctantly as normal, return the high five Denki held out for him, his lips almost in a smirk before he settled down to curl around Izuku’s back.

A feeling that was overwhelming when, at the little bit of free space they had set up a table in so they could all eat and play games together, Izuku sat the next morning wearing Katsuki’s clothes, looking soft and happy and picking at one of the plate of pancakes Katsuki was cheerfully bringing into the room. The human equivalent of a shit bomb was smiling, for fuck’s sake, freely leaning down to kiss Izuku whenever they were close enough, seemingly uncaring of his friends seeing the disgustingly adorable PDA.

He, Denki, had done that. His intelligent forethought had led to this, and the delicious platter of chocolate chip pancakes sitting in his lap. There was no way anyone could call him a dumbass now.

*~*

“Hey babe, what’s up?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Katsuki to just accept phone calls from Izuku while they were all supposed to be working and put them on speaker; it was almost appreciated, hearing their friend ramble about his classes and what kinds of things he’d done that day with his roommate and respective squad. Izuku’s voice was just soothing, even if he thought otherwise, and a welcome break from trying to destroy their brains with formulas and equipment names and safety regulations.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Katsuki. I’m pregnant.”

For a long moment it seemed like none of them could breathe, none of them could move, all they could do was sit there and stare at the phone on Katsuki desk. Waiting for Izuku to say something like “April Fool’s day” or “Happy opposite day, fuck you,” just something like that. Despite the fact they were in October, that in the last few years Izuku and Katsuki had been dating Deku had never been into holidays like that, and this wasn’t something he would prank about.

Katsuki was pale, paler than usual, his eyes wide and mouth partly open as he tried to figure out what to say. Finally, he seemed to settle on something. “But...but the condoms...”

"Only effective when used right, which I'm starting to think you don't know how to do,” Izuku snipped, the sounds of him walking somewhere in the background of the phone call. “Think about what you want to do. I’ll be there in a few hours.”

"Is that Bakugou?" Ochako's voice, while a bit distant and tinny, was still loud enough to be heard through the speaker, angry and sharp. "Tell him he better get used to being the ball-less wonder, I'm coming for him! Toga gave me a knife!"

"Ochako, no!" The fact that they were on the phone seemed forgotten as the two friends began to squabble, the call quickly dropping, leaving the room in silence. For a long moment they all just sat there, the three of them watching as Katsuki's head fell into his hands. It was Kirishima who finally broke it, clearing his throat as he tried to sound casual.

"Bro, did you... was there... did any of them-"

"No, shitty hair, none of the condoms fucking broke," Katsuki growled, lifting his head to glare at them all. "If it had and I thought this was an actual possibility, do you think I'd really be this freaked right now?"

“This kind of shit just happens sometimes,” Sero cut in, looking over at Kirishima with the well known shut the hell up before you get yourself killed look he had perfected over the last few years. “Manufacturing defects, latex decay, sometimes random things just happen and there’s even a small hole in them. You couldn’t have known, bro. Any idea what you want to do?”

While Katsuki, Sero, and Kirishima began discussing and processing his feelings and options, things they were all sure Izuku was doing with at least Ochako, if not the rest of his friends, Denki was silent. Silent and running through the vague memories of that day all those weeks ago in the student union, of the small pushpin he had put back into the cork board without a thought.

Maybe he really was a dumbass.

When Izuku and Ochako showed up a while later he was still quiet, more than happy to leave the room with the others to let the couple talk. Or, rather, help drag Ochako and her pair of scissors from the room with them, Izuku just looking exasperated as he plucked them from her hands, thanking them all pleasantly for giving him and Katsuki privacy to talk about their new situation. Happy to just sit there and listen to his friends talk and argue and theorize in the study room, only commenting when he was spoken to, never fully interacting as he sat in that new revelation of his stupidity. With everything going on, no one seemed inclined to question his silence, happy to let him exist in the chaos as the rest of them planned and prepared for whatever announcement waited for them back in the room.

A silence they all, Denki himself included as he ran away from a pissed Katsuki, just barely dodging the chair Izuku had thrown at his head, his aim only just off because his other arm was occupied by their sleeping baby girl, wished he had kept when he came clean and asked for godfather rights a few months later.

Hey. It’d seemed like a good idea at the time.

#the 9 one queues it #fanfic #bakudeku #bkdk #mha #bnha #my hero academia #fanfiction #izuku midoriya #katsudeku #bakugou katsuki #denki kaminari #mha denki #Denki is a dumbass and I love him #And the chaos he brings to everyone else's lives #Mpreg

[hyunnows]

IN THE CARDS | LEE FELIX

“… the stars in the sky who decided love was not in the cards for you.”

PAIRING(s) | Felix x reader

THEMES | angst, unrequited love, high school juniors!au, I think that’s all :>

WORD COUNT: 1.23k+

RATING | pg

NOTE | surprise! no- I’m not off hiatus yet. Unfortunately my laptop is still out of order and I hate writing on my phone but I really wanted to post something ✦ angsty ✦ so here we are T^T anyway I hope you enjoy and I hope I can get back here soon! Have a great day/night! Also feel free to ignore this new layout, or give feedback whether you like it or not, ty <3

SKZ M.LIST

You’d liked Felix since the third week of school when you two were freshmen. Now, years later, you still harbored the same feelings for him, except much stronger. Throughout your freshmen, sophomore, and now junior years, you’d grown closer to him. You two’s friend groups often ran into each other and combined, making the two of you semi familiar friends. You’d even hung out a few times together.

Of course you never acted on it. You were too shy to do anything about your schoolgirl crush. In fact, you were sure it would fade eventually, which was why whenever Areum—your best friend—would bring up your “mystery boy”, you’d always do your best to conceal his identity. You just knew she’d try to play Cupid, and you just weren’t ready to be embarrassed like that.

But recently, you'd heard him talking about a girl. One his and your friends apparently knew considerably well, and one he hung out with “sort of often”, as he’d described it. Yet he always seemed hesitant to talk about it, especially when you were around.

Trying to solve the mystery, your friends had come up with a few theories. One being that there wasn’t a girl in the group and he just wanted to throw them off. Another being it was a newer girl who’d recently transferred and taken a liking to your social circles. And the last one being that he had a crush on you.

Your friends were oblivious to your feelings for him, yes, but that didn’t stop them from seeing some sort of chemistry between the two of you. Their main pieces of evidence included that Felix always preferred to sit on your side of the table at lunch, that he could be caught looking your way a few times a day.

So when you saw him looking a bit nervous and glancing around you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he’d grown some feelings for you over the time you’d known each other.

Twiddling his thumbs, he’d waited for your friends to clear out from the hall quietly asking you to stay behind so he could speak with you privately.

When your friends heard him ask you to stay behind, they all winked and giggled like middle schoolers, nudging you and bouncing their brows. Even if you didn’t want Felix to have a crush on you, they’d have you pretty convinced he was going to ask you out with their borderline ridiculous behavior.

Still playing with his hands and shifting side to side as he waits for you to approach him. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and you try not to look too eager to hear what he needs to say. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

“Well you know how our friend groups have been mixing up a lot the past three years, and we’ve all grown kinda close. It’s only natural that someone would end up liking someone else, right?” He rants, trying not to stumble over his words or say too much more than he needs to. You nod at his question, doing your best not to smile stupidly at his cute antics and urging him to continue talking. “Well, I was just hoping that maybe…”

You hold your breath in anticipation, your hands you’re hiding behind your back clinging to each other with excitement. It’s actually happening, he’s as asking you out—

“Maybe you could ask Areum to meet me behind the sakura trees in the field later today. Oh, but don’t tell her its me she’s meeting, I want it to be a surprise, so just say she’s meeting you. Unless you don’t want to, because I can ask someone else—“ his voice rings in your ears, any other words he utters blending together into an incoherent mess.

All those glances, the nervousness, the giddiness and whispers between his friends and blushed cheeks when you were around… they weren’t directed at you.

It’s only now you realize, he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at Areum

He wasn’t nervous or shy or excited because you were around, it was because Areum was with you.

The whispers and flustered expressions, they were because he liked her.

Not you.

Her.

You knew your best friend was pretty, and smart, and funny, and kind… just like you were. But she was all of that, and more. She was any guy’s dream girl and you’d never envied that more than you do right now.

But you pick up your slack jaw, blinking away the tears that were trying to well up in your eyes and smiling as brightly as you can muster. Clasping your hands together, you squeal with excitement, jumping around with false joy. “Oh my god, you have a crush on her? That’s so cute! You two would be such a great couple! Yes, of course I’ll tell her! What time?”

At least you had time to prepare for the scene you’re about to witness when four o’clock rolls around and you watch your best friend approach the sakura field with a face full of confusion. You watch him nervously pick up the flowers he’d bought her and take a deep breath—all while he was hiding behind a tree and trying to collect himself.

When he finally emerges from his hiding spot, a sheepish smile on his face as Areum turns to him with a raised brow, trying to do anything other than wish you were in her place right now. Oh, what you would give to have Felix look at you the way he looks at her—like she alone was responsible for keeping the world turning and making sure the sun rose everyday. What you would do for just a taste of the affection he reaches for her hand with, the gentleness he places the flowers in her grip with,

You barely hear her answer to his long, well rehearsed yet still raw and genuine confession, your ears clogged with the sound of your own pulse and uneven breathing, You swear the shattering in your chest is more than just your emotions—it’s too painful to not be physical too.

When you walk into the halls the next day, you can only blame yourself for the happy new couple holding hands by your locker.

And when he stops you by the wrist to thank you for your help, you hide the bitterness in your tone as well as you can, muttering a soft, “Don’t mention it.”

Truly, you never want them to as long as you live, because you never want to be reminded that you’re the reason they ended up together. You introduced them, asked them to hang out with you in hopes of having your love requited. You’re the one who never opened up about their crush, or did anything about it for that matter.

And when Areum joins in, a bright smile on her perfect face as she thanks you for helping them get together, you really do mean it when you say with the most gentle tone you’ve ever used, “Don’t thank me, please,” Your faux smile hiding the pain in your eyes as theirs lock with nothing but love for the other.

But in the end, you did this to yourself, and have nobody else to blame besides someone the stars in the sky who decided love was not in the cards for you.

NAVI

#ficscafe #straykidsland #stayhavennet #akademia net #kpc.creators #klibrary #kwritersworldnet #skz oneshots #lee felix x reader #lee felix fluff #lee felix imagines #lee felix fic #felix fluff #felix angst #felix oneshot #felix x reader #lee felix angst #skz angst #stray kids felix #stray kids angst #skz fics #stray kids oneshot #chan x reader #skz lee minho #changbin x female reader #hyunjin fic #hyunjin oneshot #jisung x you #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader

[thebatbites]

so first things first, im treating PDH and Mystreet as the same entity going in SEQUENTIAL ORDER. so things from PDH will be referenced constantly and it will shape how mystreet happens because that was always one of my biggest issues with mystreet and PDH is that they werent made in order so there was no chance of referencing things that happened in high school since they technically didnt happen yet

SO heres my rewritten list of how PDH starts. its mostly kept the same lmao

FRESHMEN

Aphmau Shalashaska (?)

Nana “KC/Sugar(??)” Ashida

Nicole Von Ronsenburg

Travis Valkrum

Vylad Ro’meave

Zane Ro’meave

SOPHOMORES

Dante [unknown last name]

Garroth Ro’meave

Ivy [unknown last name] + goons

Katelyn [unknown last name]

Laurance Zvahl

Lucinda [unknown last name]

Teony [unknowm last name]

JUNIORS

Sasha [unknown last name]

Zenix [unknown last name]

SENIORS

Cadenza Zvahl

Aaron [Lawler]

Gene [unknown last name]

Jeffory [unknown last name]

one thing you may notice immediately is that Aaron's last name is no longer "Lycan." and that's simply because when my friend told me (because i forgot his last name) i had to turn to the fucking Office Camera™ and i said verbatim "that's fucking stupid, we're changing that" and i did.

so for now, his surename is Lawler. unless i decide to change it because im not 100% with Lawler either. EITHER WAY his last name wont matter too much for right now but just keep that in your minds for later! :)

(edit cuz i forgot to mention this: in this universe, KC will NOT be called Kawaii~Chan for the same reason that Aaron's last name won't be Lycan. because it's stupid. and incredibly… weird. so im gonna find a cutesy name for her to give her justice!)

okay next post is gonna take me a little while i try to actually piece my notes into something that makes sense

until next time!

#aphmau #aphmaurewrites #aphblur #aphblr #aphmau mystreet #mystreet #aphverse #rotp #rise of the phoenix

[moved-aphmau-rewrites]

so first things first, im treating PDH and Mystreet as the same entity going in SEQUENTIAL ORDER. so things from PDH will be referenced constantly and it will shape how mystreet happens because that was always one of my biggest issues with mystreet and PDH is that they werent made in order so there was no chance of referencing things that happened in high school since they *technically* didnt happen yet

SO heres my rewritten list of how PDH starts. its mostly kept the same lmao

FRESHMEN 

Aphmau Shalashaska (?)

Nana “KC/Sugar(??)” Ashida

Nicole Von Ronsenburg

Travis Valkrum

Vylad Ro’meave

Zane Ro’meave

SOPHOMORES

Dante [unknown last name]

Garroth Ro’meave

Ivy [unknown last name] + goons

Katelyn [unknown last name]

Laurance Zvahl

Lucinda [unknown last name]

Teony [unknowm last name]

JUNIORS

Sasha [unknown last name]

Zenix [unknown last name]

SENIORS

Cadenza Zvahl

Aaron [Lawler]

Gene [unknown last name]

Jeffory [unknown last name]

one thing you may notice immediately is that Aaron's last name is no longer "Lycan." and that's simply because when my friend told me (because i forgot his last name) i had to turn to the fucking Office Camera™ and i said verbatim "that's fucking stupid, we're changing that" and i did.

so for now, his surename is Lawler. unless i decide to change it because im not 100% with Lawler either. EITHER WAY his last name wont matter too much for right now but just keep that in your minds for later! :)

(edit cuz i forgot to mention this: in this universe, KC will NOT be called Kawaii~Chan for the same reason that Aaron's last name won't be Lycan. because it's stupid. and incredibly... weird. so im gonna find a cutesy name for her to give her justice!)

okay next post is gonna take me a little while i try to actually piece my notes into something that makes sense

until next time!

#aphrewrites #aphmau #aphblr #aphmau pdh #aphmau mystreet #mystreet #pheonix drop high #pdh #zerorewrites

[dontfeeltoohot]

Eddissy prompt! Maybe something future canon? Where Eddie and Chrissy both live, and one or the other gets sick at work/school? Queue the other one picking them up and taking care of them?

This is so cute, stoppppp.

This is set 5 years into the future, 1990.

XXX

Chrissy loves her job, all things considered. She loves getting to coach the Hawkins High cheerleading team, loves that she still gets to do something she's passionate about, even if it's not as hands on. Except, it's still hands on enough that she has to show the newer cheerleaders on the team how to do a back handspring, not once, not even twice, but three times. With every flip backwards, her already aching muscles seem to protest even more, and as she finally lands the last one, something knocks congestion loose in her head.

"Okay, lets take five," she says tiredly, her pony tail slightly askew from all the movement.

The juniors and seniors on the team slink off to the bathrooms and to get water, but the freshmen and sophomores stay to help each other with new moves. Chrissy heads to her office right off the side of the gym, grabbing her water bottle to take a drink from. As she does, the congestion shifts and she snaps her face into her arm. 

“ihh’TSHiew!” 

Wrinkling her nose, the strawberry blonde sniffles and shivers, trying to decide if she wants to call her husband. It’s not often he’ll actually be home on a day off, usually he’s off pestering Steve and Robin, with his uncle, or looking for new records. Today, the cheerleading coach hopes to god he’ll be in there small house off of Cornwallis. Using the phone that’s connected to the cement wall, she types in their landline number and waits as it rings. 

“Hello?” 

Oh thank god. 

“Eddie, hey,” she smiles softly before turning to cough into her jacket sleeve. 

“Chris! Hey baby, what’s up?” 

“Uhm, I was hoping you’d be able to come pick me up from work? I’m feeling kind of gross, and the idea of driving home when I’m this tired is-” 

“Say no more. You finish in.....about twenty minutes right?” 

“Mhm.” 

“I’ll be there. See you soon princess.” 

Chrissy feels her body relax at the knowledge Eddie will be here soon. Her throat’s been sore all day, and the tiredness that’s been clinging to her since she woke up that morning has only been intensifying. Realizing she still has the rest of practice to finish up, the woman sniffles and heads back out to the gym, hoping to avoid any more demonstrations- maybe she can get Becca or Layla to demonstrate. 

As she counts out beats ten minutes later, voice starting to lose its gusto, a shadow makes its way in through the side door of the gymnasium. The sound of the door closing is drowned out by the girls cheers, so the twenty three year old doesn’t notice the figure until he’s a few feet away. Half the cheer team watches as the long, curly haired brunette comes up and presses a kiss to Chrissy’s cheek before taking a seat behind her in the bleachers. 

“Okay, we can be done for today,” she calls out, words slightly rounded from the congestion in her head. 

The girls all sigh and work out their muscles, a few of the seniors are already heading to their cars, no doubt needing to study for whatever tests the teachers have conjured up. Three freshman won’t stop looking at Eddie, seeing as he’s not been here since the beginning of the school year, at least not when the team would see him.

She’s sure the new girls are all confused- Eddie’s all tattoos and wild hair, he’s got tight jeans and a worn thin Dio tee on. Definitely not the cookie cutter husband everyone expects the coach to have. The musician stands and walks over, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Feels like you got a fever, Cunningham,” Eddie frowns, his hand gently pressing against her cheek. At least he’s being somewhat discreet.

“Mmngh, not surprised honestly, feel kind of terrible.”

“Yeah? Well, let’s get you home then baby. Do you have to stay while their are girls still here?”

“Technically yeah, an adult has to be with them,” she coughs into her jacket sleeve and sniffles thickly, pressing the tips of her fingers to her eyelids.

“Go to your office, take a breather. I can handle it.”

“Eddie, y-“

“March, Cunningham!”

The younger girls watch as Eddie bosses their coach around, eyes wide. Chrissy does as she’s told, snagging a tissue as she sits in her chair, blowing her nose quietly. Ten minutes later, Eddie comes in with his hair in a bun, eyes zeroed in on her.

“Alright Chris, let’s get you home and in bed. I don’t like that fever. I can swing by the office and let them know you’re sick and won’t be here tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll be delighted to see me,” he snorts, knowing the women; all still the same as when he attended Hawkins High, are all sick of him and have been for the better part of 9 years.

“Okay.” She doesn’t put up a fight, which makes Eddie hold her tighter.

By the time they’re home, Chrissy is barely awake. Blearily, she wakes to Eddie shaking her shoulder, whining quietly.

“You gonna make me carry you, then?”

A moment later, she’s being picked up like a koala, her arms wrapping around his neck, legs around his waist. She coughs into his shoulder, rubs her face on the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re getting me all germed up here, Cunningham. It’s like you want me to get sick too.”

“Then we could cuddle together,” the woman mumbles, eyes already shut again.

“Maybe you got a point.”

#my fic #em #st #asks #cc

[itchose]

tai is kind of, sort of a very vague depiction of what allie might have turned out to be if the trajectory of her life went the way it was going before the crash. walk with me please

presumably tai was just like her in the sense that she was the only freshman or at least one of the few freshmen that played on the varsity team. they were both extremely good players so young and it was very noticeable to their peers / their community. tai has the chance to grow up and get even better and thrive, with the goal to go on and play in college. soccer was such a big part of her life and she was so invested and determined to be successful that she didn't let anyone get in her way for it, including allie.

it's tai pushing her as hard as she did that started making allie play better. she was given a challenge and she was up for it and it fueled her to be better, much like it would for tai.

that's how allie likely would have turned out if she got the chance. but her leg is broken, she's stopped from going to nationals, the crash happens + her teammates disappear, and she just stalemates. her love for soccer is so soured, not just because of her injury, but because all the spotlight she'd gained for being so young and so good had faded and she quickly slipped into irrelevancy. people were no longer looking to her as if she was the Next Big Thing, like they would've expected from her at the beginning of the season (expectations that were already weighing on her so hard that she was choking in the game, obviously). they were just wondering when their varsity team would return and that no longer included allie in their minds. that praise she had earned throughout the season just diminishes. all that's left is the jv team who, according to tai, sucks.

so soccer just inevitably loses its enjoyment because she was thriving so early on and it just plummets. because it doesn't matter anymore. her sophomore season, people are only vaguely curious about the team because at that point, the varsity team is still missing, they've got new coaches, and obviously... they're just not going to be any good. allie keeps choking and never really gets over it. allie could attempt to be the savior, the best player on the team now and dig them out of their hole, but it just doesn't feel worth it. she's not going anywhere. soccer just doesn't hit the same way anymore.

if the plane never crashed, if allie never broke her leg, if any of it would have turned out differently, allie would have gotten through her high school years and likely turned out to be one of the best soccer players the school ever had. she'd learn how to to manage her in-game anxiety better and stop choking when it really matters, put all that behind her, and truly thrive. she'd be just as adamant as tai was to be the very best and to achieve everything in reach. she would have been just as determined to make nationals the next three years. she would have gone on to play in college and she would have let soccer run her life and she'd actually be passionate about something.

but she loses that passion because she doesn't know how to get it back anymore. she doesn't know why she should. she doesn't know how to keep going on like everything's normal because it's not. she's dealing with a strange sense of survivor's guilt but also trying to fight back against that narrative that people are constantly throwing at her, telling her that she should be grateful for what tai did to her because it saved her life, but how can she be grateful when it cost her everything? and that's not even tai's fault because allie doesn't know how to bounce back the next year for so many other reasons.

the same is true in her personal life beyond soccer, because it's implied that she's popular + gets a lot of attention from boys, and she probably would have gone on to be the most popular girl in school, homecoming queen, the girl everyone wants to be / be with / be friends with, but she never does. she wasn't on that plane and yet it still ruins her life (not in the same way, obviously, but her only way to cope with it is to connect it the same way, anyway).

i joke about her peaking at 15 all the time but it's literally true. she was on track be this hugely successful soccer player + the girl everyone knew and liked and wanted to be around, and now she is none of those things. she is a forgotten name who never left her hometown and never became anything because she never regained that same kind of passion for anything after she lost it for soccer. she's frozen in time and never truly knows who she is, who she is supposed to be, or who she wants to be. that's why she clings so hard to the crash + the survivors even still, it's literally all she has even though she technically never had it. it's all that makes her relevant even though it's technically not.

#study: allie. #meta: allie. #i got away from my original point but do you hear me #i made more sense saying this out loud to lex i think (her probably: no you didnt?) #this is why idk how to write her and tais interactions bc my head is jumbled when i think about them together but <3

[gqteach]

Surprising no one, I did not update this blog over the summer. But I did teach the teachers, and it was good. I had several thank me and a couple more try to crash my class because they wanted to see "Trans Students 101" instead of whatever they'd been assigned. I'm also going to a conference in a couple weeks to teach the panel to a variety of teachers (and university faculty) from around the Midwest, so that's pretty exciting. Every single time I get to stand in front of people and teach these things, it feels like a major win.

I have a new job now, as a Special Ed Teacher! I am at a much smaller staff (and school) than before, and I think I know almost every adult at this point. A lot of the other teachers, especially the new hires, are also neurodivergent and queer. They're all super sweet and supportive, and so is the old guard. My principal is a bit brusque by times, but I get the impression that it's just a "way he speaks" thing, because every time we talk, he's very warm and helpful. I have high hopes for the year.

I also immediately got clocked as neurodivergent by the school's SpEd cause manager. Apparently I remind him a lot of his Autistic, ADHD son. I don't have proper documentation, but I am making a concerted effort to self-advocate and make this job more accessible. Part of that is I'm just trying to get everything in writing, because then I have something concrete to reference at any given time. According to my psych, I don't actually have a bad memory, my memory stores too much information at any given time which means accessing the actual stuff I need is nigh impossible by times. So, writing. I'm also asking like, a million questions, because Clear Communication and Understanding. I don't want to repeat the past two years' experience.

Teachers got our end of (last) year evals, and honestly, I haven't checked mine. I'm too anxious, even though I know what it's going to be. The real question is whether I fight it, or if I just take it and try extra hard these next two years. My mentor would encourage me to fight it, but I don't know if I have the energy.

I have an official diagnosis of Persistent Depression now, plus the other stuff we already knew, so I'm working really hard to turn my life around and structure it in a way that's good and healthy for me. It's a lot of hard work, but I have to believe it will be worth it in the end.

They have me teaching Biology and US History. You may recall that I am a math teacher and I honestly have no idea how to teach those other subjects. Luckily, I have very competent co-teachers to help me along there, and I do have one math class that is going absolutely fine. In History, we're talking about Race as a Social Construct, and I'm trying to decide if the kids are ready for the "Gender is also a Social Construct" talk or if it'll just throw them off more.

Students are...teenagers. I have freshmen and sophomores now, and they're all (COVID-caused) socially underdeveloped, so classroom management is a pain and a half. I'd say we're at "getting my pronouns correct half the time" right now, and working on it. I also have a lot more Spanish speakers, so working with the gender-neutral Spanish is an adventure all its own. I'm back to being the first nonbinary person a lot of students have met, and I'm trying to remind myself that there was an adjustment period at my last school, too. This will get easier. Even if I have to tear apart the queerphobic culture brick by brick.

(10/1/2023)

#Queer #Genderqueer #Nonbinary #Nonbinary Teacher #Trans Teacher

[moonxsuncelestials]

Twisted Wonderland AU

Following the story of MC and Grim as Headmage Crowley tries to find a way to get MC home, quite a few members of the Thanos and Mesbah Clans show up along the way. Will MC be able to escape the world of Twisted Wonderland and return home like they want or will they make a deal with Yun to stay forever by their friends? 

All Muses are 18+ in this verse. Yue’s children likely are to attend Royal Sword Academy minus Aladin!

Those Involved So Far:

Ivory

Ivory aka Aragon Nite, is one of the many freshman under Vil Schoenheit at  Pomefiore Dormitory. Silent and unseen outside of Rook, Ivory had challenged Vil (unintentionally) to become the Fairest of them All during one of their practice dances for their ice skating routine; vowing that they will either become the next Fairest Queen and if that doesn’t work, they will be the Deadliest of Them All. 

So far only one soul knows that they are Aragon Nite, an infamous ice skating champion and that is their twin, Eclipse along with Headmage Crowley. Ivory also has a trained familiar that goes by the name of Poe that acts as their therapy animal as well. Their signature spell is Sound of Silence which entails crystal looking briars that seem to enter the opponent’s mouth and ‘strangle’ the vocal cords thus effectively silencing Ivory’s opponents. The spell is quite powerful in its own right, thus why Ivory prefers to only use it sparingly. More than once or twice they have thought of using it on Sebek a few times.

Sound of Silence however has a major drawback and that came in the form of Ivory’s own vocal cords being paralyzed back in their high school years.

Eclipse

As Eclipse is seen as far too much of a rebel and nearly got himself expelled like Ace, it’s a miracle that he’s still at the school. Smart and quick-witted, many thought that the Dark Mirror should have kicked him out but whilst he has driven Headmage Crowley mad with some of his antics; Eclipse has proven to bring in a bit of good publicity for Night Raven College, much to the poor headmage’s ire. 

He is protective of his siblings, that much Headmage Crowley has given him and is respectful to most of the staff. 

Having been one of the freshmen who had called claim to Ramshackle Dorm before MC arrived, Eclipse’s true dormitory is Savanaclaw though he keeps this a secret from everyone outside of Ivory. Most nights during his first month he spent hanging about the gardens of Ramshackle but made sure that no one saw him since he too needs solace at times. Eclipse doesn’t have a familiar but he does help Ivory look after Poe, often hiding him in Savanaclaw whenever Vil goes on a rampage or one of his tirades about Poe being more of a pet than familiar. 

Like Ivory, he too has created his signature spell which is called Black Ice. Black Ice can be equally devastating as Sound of Silence, because it impairs one’s vision via ‘frosting’ over the eyes. 

Li

Whilst Li is not exactly per say a student, he does attend Night Raven College and is in Octanville’s dorm. Because of his social anxiety, Li often attends classes via online if he cannot meet with the teachers one on one. The only times that Li even leaves the dorm is to be around his siblings, for study groups or just to hang out. 

Li is actually a sophomore despite what others think but even Azul admits that the dragon is an actual sweetheart, being generous yet one shouldn’t mistake Li’s kindness for him being a doormat. Like his siblings, Li can be very dangerous; even the Leech Brothers seem to be wary of tangoing with the sea dragon.  Li also loves and adores cats, so much so that Poe is spoiled rotten with pets and treats at times. 

And just like most of his siblings, Li has his own signature spell called Sirenia. Similarly to how Jamil’s magic works, Sirenia can hypnotize anyone who hears the dreaded siren’s song, but this is where things get tricky. Because it’s so powerful, Li often is drained from using it thus he’ll rarely ever use the spell, but rest assured he’ll use it on par with his siblings.

Stephen

The youngest out of the siblings, Stephen surprisingly enough gave the Dark Mirror a hard time when it came to deciding where to place the youngest Mesbah. Stephen is benevolent, has persisted and is mindful, as well as diligent; four qualities out of the seven dorms. Eventually the Dark Mirror placed him in Scarabia and he’s managed to escape both Jamil and Kalim’s radar showing that wit and cunning of his.

Unlike most of the others in Scarabia, Stephen prefers to stay away from the two heads of the dorm; he often needs to steal away to the Oasis even after curfew to reconnect to the earth and water. And during Book 4′s event, Stephen had managed to escape Jamil’s plot via being able to hide himself and then high tail it through the Dark Mirror back to the Isle of Mists to be with his family. 

Now Stephen has yet to discover his signature spell, but he is able to mask his presence via what Li jokingly called ‘blending like an octopus’. Turns out he is very skilled at camouflaging himself! And Stephen is alright with taking his time in learning what he specializes in. He has theorized that unlike his siblings, he’s likely going to be the healer of the quartet but even then, Stephen has admitted that he may be offense as well. 

Poe

Whilst Poe hates being called or referred to as a pet, he is incredibly happy to be loved on via said petting and treats from the ones he loves. He often argues with Vil that he is not Ivory’s pet but his family and the familiar; Poe does not reveal that he is in fact, Ivory’s service ‘animal’ until after the events in Book 6. He takes his job seriously and always has the best of the siblings’ interests at heart.

Personality wise, Poe is the exact opposite of Grim and makes it clear that he is happy when his family succeeds at their goals, both big and small!  He speaks in a far softer and polite tone, yet when angered or feels that the siblings are going to do something far too reckless, look out! Those soft tones become stern and sometimes harsh, though Poe admits it’s out of love for the siblings that he speaks in such tones.

He is a bit more knowledgeable on most magical items and things, but loves to also remind the kids that the library is their best friend when it comes to knowledge. And yes, he is a bit tech savvy though prefers to watch the siblings play videogames.

#twisted wonderland au

[countessofravenclaw]

It is very clear that HSMTMTS doesn't have very good representation over outer graderal dating (yes, I made that up). I feel like the message that the show has been delivering this far has been that different grades obligate you to be in different places in life and it will never work... when that is not always the case.

Again, I am going to be talking about Soy Luna, since that show actually gives a quite good representation of this.

Yes, the same show also had a 19-year-old date and 15-years old, and have 16-year-old and 19+ date (#give Nico and Pedro canon ages please), and have another person with unknown age have a crush on a person in her 30s only to date a 17-year old, and finally have a college freshman obsess over a 16-year-old who he knew for 2 days for a year... yeah, when you really think about this it gets creepy. But these are not the ones we are talking about today

In the show, the main cast can be divided into three age groups:

Ones born in 2000 (during the show ages 16-17-18. Start out as Hs sophomores and graduate in the end): Luna, Nina, Jim and Yam

Ones born in 1999 (DTSA: 17-18-19, start out as Hs juniors and are college freshmen in the end if they went to college): Matteo, Gastón, Ambar, Delfi, Jazmin, Ramiro

And the ones whose ages we do not know but they are hs graduates and presumably did not go to college so we assume they are 18-20: Nico, Pedro, Simon.

For the sake of my argument, we are only gonna be talking about two couples: Gastón and Nina, and Luna and Matteo.

In both of these relationships, the guy is older and graduates before the girl from high school during the show's duration (no, we never see graduation, sadly).

I like to wonder if SL fandom would have been like HSMTMTS fandom during its airing, would there have been people opposed to Lutteo and Gastina dating on the basis of the guys graduating.

This was never an issue and college was still brought up. It was only an issue when the said University was going to be overseas.

During the show, you always forgot that they were not the same age and the only notable thing was the fact that they were not attending the same classes (The times when they went to class... also Gastteo shenanigans at the class were such missed opportunity) and that they guys offered to help the girls with homework since they had already learned those things.

They were never were on different pages so to say due to their ages. I mean argument can be made for Lutteo, but it is Lutteo. They were both immature for their ages and Gastón and Nina were mature for their ages (S1a Gastón be excused)

Yes, Gastón and Nina broke up because of him being at college, but that was due to him being at Oxford and bad writing since these two if somebody would have made the long-distance work.

#hsmtmts #Soy Luna #I don't even really know where I was going with this #Gastina #Lutteo